


Burning Bridges

by Bayzen



Series: I Don't Lie Series [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Death Eaters, F/M, Gryffindor, Hogwarts, Slytherin, sixth year
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-10
Updated: 2017-01-10
Packaged: 2018-09-16 12:56:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 53
Words: 68,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9272732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bayzen/pseuds/Bayzen
Summary: With You-Know-Who on the rise, the wizarding world is more strained than it has been in sixteen years. Remington is no longer the one with secrets to hide; now it's Draco's turn to conceal his own.





	1. Vacancy

**Author's Note:**

> Harry Potter and all associated content belongs to J.K. Rowling.  
> This work was originally posted on Quizilla, then FanFiction.net.  
> This is the second installment of a three-part series. Preceded by "I Don't Lie" and to be followed by "Swan Song".

A well-worn maroon sneaker stepped out from the fireplace in a small, two-story family home, its owner stumbling onto the living room carpet, rubbing her head after having bumped it on the mantle. Her blue-green eyes turned back to glare ruefully at the fireplace before she started dusting herself off.

Remington didn’t use the floo network often, and it showed. From somewhere on the second floor, the sounds of some Muggle band streamed at what she was sure was a laptop’s top volume. On the couch a few feet away, a black tomcat was sprawled luxuriously on a pillow, waving his tail in welcome. Rem was fairly certain, other than the teenage witch upstairs, the cat was the only inhabitant of the house at that time. Natalie’s parents would be off at work at this time of day, and Nat’s thirteen-year-old brother Ezekiel would be at summer school.

It was only a couple days after she’d said goodbye to Hogwarts for the summer, and she was surprised that her mother had let her go so easily. It was hardly worth all the fretting that she did as they drove back to her house in her mother’s Lincoln Town Car. She’d always hated that car. It felt too clean cut. Her father’s SUV was so much cozier-

She didn’t bring up the idea of her staying with Natalie until they’d almost reached their destination, not wanting to bring it up right away and have to spend the remainder of the car ride with a sour Marissel.

_“So I guess Celeste’s older brother is getting married in a few days...” Remington remarked off-handedly, as casually as she could, though her insides were jittering like hell._

_“I saw the invitation.” Marissel replied, not with too much coldness._

_“Yeah, Natalie said they’d sent one to both of us, since I was away at school.” Rem nodded. “I brought the possibility up to Snape that I might be able to-”_

_“Stay with the Ravscroft girl for a short time?” Her mother finished for her._

_“So he told you.” The knowledge pleased her. Snape had actually honored her wishes and informed her mother. Maybe he did care. A little, tiny bit._

_When her mother deigned not to respond, she pressed, “Well?”_

_“I suppose I could allow you to go,” Her mother drawled reluctantly, “Just until the wedding is past, anyway.”_

_Only about two weeks had been won on her part, but it was two weeks that might actually seem somewhat_ normal _._

She headed up the steps slowly, walking to the last door on the right, where Natalie’s room was located. She inched the door open, ducking as a winged alarm clock made a swipe for her head. The sound of music intensified. A tall, lean girl with pale blonde waves sat on a bed made with a violently green and pink comforter and multi-colored pillows. She was hunched over a beaten laptop, making exaggerated facial expressions as she sang along with the song.

As she tried not to laugh at the other girl, Remington was smacked in the back of the head by the flying clock.

“Ouch!” She exclaimed, waving an arm at the thing as she rubbed the back of her head.

The blonde’s attention had been effectively pulled from her computer as she looked up to find out whose voice had interrupted her singing. “REMS!” She squealed, lunging off the bed to tackle Remington. Just when she thought she was going to suffocate, she was released so that Natalie could get a good look at her. “You look a bit different.” She remarked. “You look... more mature.”

“Well thanks. It’s been a while since you saw me. I’d hope I’ve gotten a bit older.” Remington said, her expression becoming slightly concerned as her friend stared at her, a slow smile making its way onto her face.

“You sound really different, too.” Nat said, “All British and everything.”

Rem frowned. “I spent nine months in the UK, you’d expect me to sound a little different.”

“It’s alright, you’ll sound American again before you go back.” Nat said cheerily, “No worries!”

**=+=+=+=**

It took a while, but they eventually got Renaldo the flying alarm clock to stop trying to attack Rem, and caught each other up, Remington telling her all about the recent scare at the Ministry of Magic, along with most of the other stuff that had happened that year, and Natalie informing Rem that she was now dating a seventh year boy, and that their Quodpot team had won the finals this year.

“Alright, Rems. You knew this was coming.” Natalie said, spooning up some ice cream that she’d fished out of the freezer, trying her hardest to get the big hunks of chocolate and peanut butter without Remington catching onto her antics. She wasn’t doing a very good job, but then again, she didn’t have a very good track record of pulling things over on Rem. “Boys. Found any you like? You’ve got a whole new flock of fish to pick from.” She shoved a massive gob of ice cream in her mouth. For a moment she seemed fine, then she opened her mouth and started waving her hand in front of it as if it would raise the temperature of the ice cream.

Remington gave her a disapproving look, but carried the conversation. “Flock is when you’ve got birds. Fish are _schools_.” She corrected. “And I suppose I’ve met a few boys. Had a few misadventures. There was this guy named Seamus. He was okay, had a crush on me and all, but I wasn’t really interested in him like that. Then there was Draco-” Even though she had been with Draco in a much more romantic light much more often than Seamus, she knew what Seamus had felt for her and what she’d felt for him. Draco... was a totally different story. She had nearly no clue what he wanted from her. She had never really thought specifically about what she wanted from him. At first it was just the need for another human being, but then...

“Draco?” Nat prompted, smiling slyly at her as she tried scooping up another large spoonful of ice cream, obviously having learned nothing from her previous experience.

“He’s the pure-blood type that thinks he’s God’s gift to the world. You know, completely selfish and egotistical,” Remington said, with all honesty. “But I think I’m in love with him.” She had come to the conclusion and it seemed to make all the sense in the world. She may be only sixteen, but it couldn’t get much more apparent when she’d unhesitatingly trust Draco with her life, no questions asked. She might not know why, but she knew it was true.

Natalie choked on her ice cream, making a sound that was likely meant as a question, but came out as, “Gwauh?”

“I think I’m in love with him. It’s totally crazy, and horribly improbable, and anything but reasonable, but-” She shook her head, “I can’t get enough of him.” She quickly stuck a spoonful of ice cream in her mouth, hoping it would buy her some time before she had to answer any more questions.

“Are you high?” The blonde demanded, viciously shoving her spoon deep into the carton and thrusting her hands onto her hips. “Please tell me this isn’t because he’s your baby daddy.”

Remington’s eyes widened and she swallowed quickly, “God, Nat! Hell no!” She nearly exclaimed. Did her friend really think so little of her?

“So you haven’t slept with him?” Natalie inquired, yanking her spoon back out of the ice cream and eyeing the other girl dubiously.

“Of course not!” She replied, still scandalized.

“And you’re in love with him?” Nat continued.

“ _Where_ are you going with this, Natalie Silvana?” Remington asked, using the girl’s full name, which she knew her friend hated.

The blonde huffed, picking up the ice cream carton, sitting up straight, and glaring down her nose into it as she picked out the bits she wanted. “It’s quite the announcement to say you _love_ someone.”

“I know what I’m talking about, Nat.” She insisted.

“Well,” Natalie said reluctantly, “You always were the reasonable one.” She proceeded to interrogate Rem about Draco. (“What’s his last name?” “Does he have a brother?” “How far have you two gone?” “How the _hell_ did he become a prefect?”)

And it felt just like being back at Nexxford. The déjà vu was killing her.


	2. Obscure

It was dark outside. Of course, it seemed to always be dark at the manor. It hadn’t been that way before; years ago after the ruckus of the First Wizarding War died down and before the present turmoil began. It had seemed a lot... warmer. Malfoy Manor could hardly be considered a homey place, no matter when you looked at it, but it was far less welcoming now. Particularly with the current guests.

“Now, who was that pretty?” Bellatrix asked in her almost frighteningly sweet voice. She gave a somewhat taunting smile, her wand poised over her shoulder.

This was to be the first of many lessons Draco would receive in Occlumency. And so far, his aunt seemed to be getting most of her enjoyment from teasing him about everything she saw in his mind. He tried his hardest not to outright glare at her, but it was quite difficult when she was making it so easy to resent her.

“Well if you don’t want me to see, then block me out!” She said, aiming her wand at him again. “ _Clear your mind_ , Draco.” And she plunged into his thoughts.

He was honestly trying, he really was, but now he could tell she was doing her damnedest to get under his skin. After the glimpse she’d seen of Remington, he caught flashes of bright cyan eyes, an amused smile, a kiss-

“Awfully friendly, are you?” Bellatrix goaded with her smile when she withdrew once more from his mind. “What’s her name, Draco?”

“Alvers.” He responded tightly, not much caring for her to be enlightened to this particular subject.

“Alvers?” She repeated, tapping her chin with a dark fingernail. “Yes, he wasn’t much younger than me. Married that Orpington girl- had a daughter, did he?” When Draco declined to say anything more voluntarily, she prodded, “Well, her name, what’s her name?”

“Remington.” He replied, shifting slightly on his feet.

“Remington Alvers,” Bellatrix said in a mildly mocking tone, then her voice softened to jeer more at Draco than Rem, “Remington... Malfoy?” Before any surprise from her remark had time to register, she’d turned her wand on him again and dove into his mind.

This time, he managed to close her off the slightest bit. In a pleased sort of trouvaille, she ceased her assault, grinning at him in a contented way. “That’s better.”


	3. A Strict Difference

Between the two girls, or anyone, really, Remington had always been the last to fall asleep. Whether it was for some time to think while the others were passed out, or the feeling of safety that came along with being in a room full of soundly sleeping friends. Either way, it’d never been any different.

Nat was sprawled luxuriously on her half of the queen bed, somehow sleeping on her back with both her legs and an arm stretched towards Rem’s side of the bed. But the latter was perfectly used to ending up with less than her fair share of space. Natalie always managed to scoot just a bit closer to her, and hating being touched, Rem would scoot away until she was forced to steal a couple blankets and curl up on the floor. Or just hit Nat in the stomach until she moved, but that could backfire.

Remington looked at the corkboard across the room, just barely able to see the pictures pinned to it thanks to the light from the streetlamp streaming in through the open window. There were some pictures that smiled back at her mutely, or displayed a frozen scene from some event or another, like the one of Nat and her brother dressed for Halloween when she was about eight and he five. Or the one that proudly displayed a third grade girls’ soccer team that Remington and Nat had helped coach the previous summer, before the accident. But there were also pictures that went about their own business, alternating between laughing and sticking their tongues out at the viewer, or spewing wizard crackers over a crowd of Quodpot champions.

There were four main faces in most of those pictures. One was that of the tall, all-legs blonde, Natalie. Another was the blue-eyed, brown-haired Remington. A third had hair that, though often changing, was generally a vivid red, and eyes that were usually grey; the face of Celeste Fidèle, a pure-blood metamorphmagus. And the last face belonged to the dark-haired, and equally dark-eyed Isaac Spinner. They were something of a team, having all been quite close for at least three years. But Natalie and Remington had always been inseparable.

It was all no more. She’d started realizing that no matter how hard she tried, she’d never _really_ be able to be friends like that again. She had trouble accepting it, but she remembered how they always said things like, be glad it happened, not regret that it’s over. And besides, she wouldn’t have met Draco. She could still have Nat, and Cellie, and Isaac, but not like she did before.

Was it worth it? Was Draco worth it?

**=+=+=+=**

She wasn’t sure when exactly she’d finally fallen asleep, but when she woke she had a dreading feeling that her skimping on her draught to make it last the entire trip was not going to go well. She wasn’t supposed to have dreams. _Any_ dreams. So though it wasn’t of her father, it still shouldn’t have happened.

She couldn’t say that she hated having the dream, because she’d much rather had had that instead of another flashback, but she didn’t particularly favor the idea of dreaming about Draco while she was staying with Nat.

She pulled her hair over one of her shoulders to let her neck feel a bit of the cool breeze floating in from the window. Natalie was still passed out, now on her stomach with her head halfway under a pillow. She had an arm bent across her back at an interesting angle, and the other was curled over her head.

The idea came to her that maybe she could write Draco. Maybe. She did during Christmas break, didn’t she? Why would now be much different? She crawled off the bed slowly and picked an open spiral notebook off the floor and fished a pen from the purple plastic cup on Nat’s desk before sitting on the stool in front of the vanity.

She didn’t know what he’d make of the lined paper, but she didn’t have much choice in the matter.

 _Draco_  
I know better than to expect you to write back. Nevertheless, it seems I have nothing better to do than to write to you. Even though I guess I don’t have much to say this time around... Anyway. I hope your summer has been nice. I’m in the US of A right now with a really good friend of mine. I’m stuck somewhere between missing Hogwarts and feeling glad to be home. No nightmares as of yet. It probably won’t be long until my mother sends me back. Sue me, but it’s going to be a long break without you around.  
Remington


	4. White And Willow Trees

It was good four hour drive to the Fidèle’s home from Nat’s place, so they’d left in the late morning in case they met some construction work, or if Natalie managed to get them lost. It wasn’t a half hour after they left that Rem noticed that something was missing.

“Turn the car around!” Remington said urgently.

“I can’t! It’s the interstate!” Nat argued.

“But I left my wand at your house!” Rem said, honestly concerned. It may have been illegal for her to _use_ her wand, but... what if there was an emergency?

“Oh my god, Rems,” Natalie said, rolling her eyes, “You’ll live!”

“You never know!” Remington snapped, “Shit’s been going down pretty regularly lately, if you haven’t noticed.”

“Oh, I’ve noticed.” Nat said darkly, pausing before continuing, “You don’t have to worry so much, Rem.” She added almost sadly, “You’re pure-blood.”

“Nat-” Remington started to say, “It’s not-”

“Vanessa Jacobson’s whole family went missing just before you came over.” Natalie interjected, “You know? The Muggle-born girl in the year above us?” Rem stared at her friend, trying to think of something to say. “They’re just going to pick us off one at a time-”

“No, Nat,” Remington interrupted her. “They can’t-”

“This war is starting, Rems! I know it just as much as you do. Unlike you, though, we’re not in the heart of it.” Her voice had started to calm a bit. “But it’ll get here soon enough.”

**=+=+=+=**

The way to the house was through a gate, with a brick wall encasing the front of the private property on either side. Willows, along with several other trees leaned out partially over the wall, and the dirt walk from the gate to the house’s front steps was shaded by yet more of the trees. The ground all around was either covered with dirt and a sparse dotting of thin grass, or the knotted roots of the old trees. Ahead, was a house, very old in style, and though the paint was reasonably intact, it was obvious that nothing about the house had been changed for decades. It looked just as one would imagine a Southern plantation house might have.

“Alixandre Christopher! You stupid troll!” Came an indignant feminine voice.

“Celeste Marie!” Another voice, a bit less murderous, and a bit more mature.

“He just ripped my dress, Mom!” The first voice argued.

“It’s a simple fix, honey. You have to be patient.”

Natalie and Remington walked up the steps of the large house. The porch creaked slightly as they crossed, and pushed open the screen door into the large room at the front of the house, usually dedicated to welcoming guests. Inside, what looked to be most of the Fidèle family was gathered.

A redheaded girl with her hair curled and pinned in a way very reminiscent of porcelain dolls, stood with her hands on her hips as she waited next to an overstuffed chair, where her mother, a short, dark-haired woman nearing her fifties, sat mending the hem of the girl’s bridesmaid dress. The dress was a pretty shade of light grey that matched Celeste’s eyes, and cut off just beneath her knees. It had a fair amount of ruching across the bust, and a jeweled cinch just beneath.

On one of the couches, two smaller girls sat, one likely just a bit over five, and the other nearing ten. They both had hair that was too dark to be blonde, but too light to really be brunette, and the littlest was wearing a white gown, to play the role of the miniature bride. The other girl was wearing dress the same grey as her older sister’s, but with lavender flower petals on the fabric. A flower girl, no doubt. A boy that was probably around thirteen was sitting in a chair like the one his mother had, arms crossed and leaning back, glaring ruefully at Celeste. His hair was the same shade as his younger sisters’. He was dressed in black dress robes, along with a grey satin vest, though it all looked a bit ruffled. And leaning against the doorway into the main house stood a rather handsome dark-haired man, just past twenty, dressed similarly as his little brother.

Natalie was smiling to herself beside Remington, the former had always had a minor crush on the oldest Fidèle boy, Dion. Rem was sure that her having a boyfriend wouldn’t curb the girl’s antics.

Celeste looked up as they walked in, then broke away from her mother, launching herself onto the two girls and hugging them at the same time.

“It’s not four yet!” Her mother protested.

“I told them to come early!” Celeste said, pulling away from the other girls. “Come on, let’s go to my room.”

Celeste’s room was in a back corner on the top floor, overlooking the back yard, which was set up with white cloth-covered tables and chairs, and a separate part set aside with a dramatic white arch covered in magnolia flowers, with more white-covered chairs to serve the audience. There was a distinct Victorian theme in the room, filled with creamy whites and light tans, along with soft shades of red, purple, and blue. The windows were opened, the gauzy curtains streaming gently in the light breeze.

“Isaac shouldn’t be long, I told him to be here at three thirty, too.” Celeste said, still grinning as she flopped down onto the bed, unconcerned about her dress. “So what’s new?”

“Remington’s got a boy toy.” Natalie remarked with a sly wink in Rem’s direction.

“Well, so does Nat.” Rem snapped, falling back into a cushy loveseat.

“Well we already know about Nat, but _you_...” Celeste said, leaning forward slightly. “Tell me about him.”

“Oh my god, both of you interrogate-” Remington started to complain.

“How sexy is he? Have you wrapped your legs around him yet?” The redhead pressed.

“Why are you both wondering whether I’ve had sex with him?” Rem demanded, her eyes narrowing. “What sort of girl do you think I am?”

“I take offence to that.” Natalie remarked.

“What?”

“You didn’t tell her?” Celeste inquired.

“Tell me what? What didn’t she tell me?” Remington questioned, looking between them.

“Well, _I_ ’ve slept with Joshua.” Nat shrugged.

“But-” Rem began, “You two are both months older than me-”

“What about _him_?”

“Younger than me.” She answered. “So it’s... different.”

“Not really,” Celeste commented, “I mean, you _are_ the mature one out of our group. It’d make more sense for _you_ to have done it before her.”

“I don’t-” Remington stammered, “I’m not-”

“You don’t want him?” Celeste asked.

“Oh, she wants him.” Natalie answered for her.

“He... doesn’t want you?” Celeste inquired gently.

“Highly doubtful.” Natalie continued.

“Well?” Celeste prodded irritably, having been shot down.

Remington looked at them seriously, “Are you trying to tell me there’s something wrong with being a virgin?”

“I can’t say _that_ since I am one.” Celeste shrugged. “But... you know.”

“You’re afraid that’s all he wants?” Natalie asked.

Remington exhaled, shifting uncomfortably, “That’s not-”

“You are!” Nat interjected. “How can you love him if you think he only wants ass?”

“Natalie.” Rem said in exasperation. She ran a hand through her hair. “It’s just- really complicated.”

“We’re sixteen, how goddamn complicated can it be?” Nat objected.

Remington shook her head, “Complicated enough.”

They eventually gave up on the conversation and started talking about other things. When the bedroom door opened, they were chatting about what was going to be served during the reception.

“You’re late!” Celeste shouted at the dark brunette boy, who held his hands up in surrender.

Remington lurched to her feet as he made a claim that traffic had been unbelievable. She threw her arms around the boy, “I haven’t seen you in forever!”

“A year.” He agreed, then without warning squeezed her against his chest so that her recently healed ribs felt like they were about to snap. She made a couple futile efforts to get out of his arms, so when he finally released her, she fell backwards onto the bed, nearly on top of Celeste.

“Watch it!” The redhead yelled, rolling out of the way and almost right off the bed.

“You don’t need to suffocate me right away.” Remington said, a bit breathlessly as she glared at Isaac. “There’s plenty of people across the Atlantic that would like to.”

He laughed, “Got enemies already, Rems?”

“She actually had a tussle with some Death Eaters.” Nat threw her two cents in.

Isaac arched his eyebrows and plopped onto the loveseat that Rem had been sitting on just before. “Oh, damn.”

“It really wasn’t-” Rem started to say, “Well, it was irrational and impulsive of us all. We thought we were doing something heroic and brave.” After she’d started saying it, she realized how well it described Gryffindor House. She hadn’t thought that she belonged in Gryffindor much, being that she didn’t feel like she had the right qualities, but her decisions seemed to prove that the Sorting Hat was very much aware of what it was doing.

“But you _did-_ ” Isaac began.

“She was legitimately chased around the Ministry of Magic by a bunch of Death Eaters, firing curses and everything.” Nat interjected excitedly.

“Now, Nat-” Remington said. “That’s not-”

“That was _you_?” Isaac demanded, giving her a disbelieving look.

“There was a thing in the paper about the infiltration in the British Ministry of Magic or whatever.” Celeste explained. “They didn’t list names.”

“That’s our little Remy!” Natalie crooned, to which Rem rolled her eyes.

“What do you mean?” Isaac asked incredulously, “She could’ve been killed!”

“None of us were killed.” Rem said, “There was only one fatality, and all I ended up with were a few scratches.”

“And some cracked ribs.” Nat added, earning a scathing look from Remington.

“Which could have ended in a punctured lung or worse.” Izzy gave Rem a look.

“Hey, I’m fine,” She held her hands out and gave an unconcerned expression.

“You wouldn’t have backed out from doing the same thing, Iz.” Celeste said, “Stop preachin’ to Rem about it.”


	5. Bad Faith And Prostitutes

The wedding was beautiful. But then again, what wedding wasn’t? The food was great, the dance was fun, and she hated that she had to leave. But she said goodbye to Celeste, who was still populating the dance floor, and Isaac headed back when Nat and Rem did, so they wished their farewells before the two girls climbed into Nat’s blue sedan. Natalie gave her goodbye rather quickly, knowing she would see him in a couple months, but Remington, on the other hand, would not.

She hugged him tightly, a gesture that Nat usually called a ‘meaningful bear hug.’ “I’ll see you again before long, Izzy.” She said, as much as she could when her ribcage was being squished. He didn’t respond, merely giving her a final squeeze. She flashed a quick smile before she spun to head after Nat before the other girl could start honking the horn like a maniac.

But as she turned around, he grabbed her upper arm. She whipped back to see if he had something to say, but just as soon his lips were on hers.

It was against her better judgment. Her mind threw a couple thoughts of Draco her way, but she’d already let her actions turn to instinct. She hardly had the heart to push Isaac away, but she knew she shouldn’t allow him to kiss her- those arguments shut off her reactions. So she let his hand curve around the side of her waist, and she kissed him back. Not with as much fervor, but with enough to not discourage him.

When they finally broke apart, Remington felt an overwhelming urge to simply run to the car and hide inside. But she knew better.

“I couldn’t let you leave again without-” He began under his breath.

“I have to go, Iz.” She said, “I’m sorry.” That shut him up quick enough, and she gave him a slightly regretful look before she turned and walked to the car, keeping as composed as she could manage.

She pulled the door open and slid in to find Nat staring at her dubiously. “You didn’t just-” Natalie began.

“Don’t even, Nat.” Rem shot at her sharply, her eyes on the dash.

“What would Draco say? You certifiably just made out with-”

“I did not. It was just a meaningless kiss, and Draco won’t need to know about it.” Remington insisted, turning a glare on her friend.

“Meaningless, my ass!” Natalie protested, “Maybe it was to you, but he’s been bordering on falling in love with you for years, Remington!”

Rem gave her a look, flawlessly communicating that she didn’t want to hear any more. Still vexed, Nat jammed the car into reverse and started to back out of her parking spot.

**=+=+=+=**

Natalie hadn’t said anything more about the deal with Isaac. Normally, of course, she wouldn’t leave Remington alone, but it was obvious Rem was having trouble looking past it.

Draco didn’t need to know. He wouldn’t have to know. Besides, would it really upset him that much in the first place? They weren’t a couple. Not really. They weren’t dating or anything like that. They just talked and kissed and she loved him. He couldn’t possibly feel the same about her. It was _Draco_ they were talking about.

But she’d probably let everything between her and Isaac crash and burn. They’d kissed once before, but it wasn’t spoken of afterwards, and things seemed to settle back into normal. Of course, she could easily pretend that she had no recollection of it, considering that it’d happened at a contraband party at Nexxford after they’d won a fairly important Quodpot game. There was smuggled alcohol hanging around, and she hadn’t had much, but she’d had the smell on her, and the taste on her tongue.

But now? She couldn’t act like it didn’t happen. And the way she’d left so hastily had proved that she didn’t like that it’d happened. It must have hurt him. _She_ must have hurt him.

“Mom-” Came the irritable voice of Zeke, he was sitting at the table, his hair a mess and still dressed in sweatpants and a tee shirt from sleeping. He had paused from eating his pancakes, squinting at the window in the dining room. “Mom, there’s a huge bird outside the window.”

“It’s probably for your sister- Nattie, get the owl.” Mrs. Ravscroft said, not looking up from the next batch of pancakes.

“But it’s- ugh!” Natalie complained, dropping her fork onto her plate with a sharp clatter and getting up. When she opened the window, though, the owl flew into the house to land in front of Remington, holding its foot out impatiently.

Hoping against hope that it might be a letter from someone from Hogwarts, particularly a certain blonde someone, she fumbled the letter off its leg as quickly as she could. It wasn’t addressed from any of her friends, however. Instead, she found with an almost equal excitement that it was her O.W.L. results.

 _Astronomy: O_  
_Care of Magical Creatures: A_  
_Charms : O_  
_Defence Against The Dark Arts: E_  
_Divination : A_  
_Herbology: A_  
_History of Magic : P_  
_Potions : O_  
_Transfiguration : O_

“What is it, Rems?” Natalie asked, trying to peer over her friend’s shoulder.

“My test scores!” She replied excitedly, “Look! I passed everything except for History of Magic-” She was saying, then she saw her Potions grade. She dropped the paper, which Nat caught deftly. Rem pressed her hands to her face, “Oh my god.” She shouldn’t have gotten that mark. She’d never have gotten that mark if it weren’t for Draco. “Outstanding. I got an Outstanding in Potions.”

“You suck at Potions,” Natalie exclaimed, looking at the paper. “You’re kidding me.”

“Draco tutored me.” Remington replied, reaching out to take the paper back.

“Tutored you?” Nat said, pulling the paper away from the other girl’s grasp. “Are you sure there wasn’t some payment going on- ?”

“Natalie!” Rem interjected, smacking her on the arm and lunging forward to snatch the paper.

Zeke was watching them, his fork raised halfway to his mouth. “Remington’s a prostitute?”

“ _Zekie_!” His mother chastised sharply.

“Nah, it’s mutual-” Natalie was saying as Remington gaped at her friend’s little brother.

“I am _not_.” Rem cut across Nat, who’d started laughing. Remington just shook her head and went back to eating her pancakes.

Later in the day, she received another letter. This time, it was from her mother. She wanted Remington to come back from the US.

“But you can’t leave yet.” Natalie was insisting hopelessly, sitting Indian-style on her bed, hugging a giant puffskein plushie.

“I don’t really have much choice.” Rem muttered, her head rested on her hand and her eyes rested on the comforter of the bed as she traced nonsensical patterns onto it with her fingernail. “I’m surprised she let me stay this long. But-” She turned a slow grin towards Nat, “Maybe I could bring you back with me.”


	6. The Ultimatum

Normally, Bellatrix didn’t particularly bother him. Sure, she was sadistic and eccentric and really quite frightening, but she never really targeted that at him, so it wasn’t so bad. Occasionally she’d say something quite disturbing though, but it would generally be ignored. However, it was hard to ignore when she was staring straight at him from across the table, quite intently.

Finally, he just turned his eyes back on her and returned an equal glare. From the end of the dining table, Narcissa looked between them, trying not to think that they were actually growing accustomed to each other. As much as she may love her sister, Bella was certainly not a good influence for Draco. She was about to comment when the elder sister spoke up.

“What’s going on in that pale head of yours?” Bellatrix asked lowly.

“Can’t you see, Aunt Bella?” Draco taunted, though he very well knew that she wasn’t a person he should be poking at.

“Don’t you be insubordinate with me, _young man_.” She hissed. Though he knew the first part was entirely serious, the second was quite mocking. “I could easily make things difficult for your sweetheart.”

He looked at her through narrow eyes for a moment, “You really think I care so much?”

Bellatrix rolled her eyes, flopping back in her chair and giving him a sort of ‘ _no duh_ ’ look and a little sneer. “Young love.” She said thickly before picking up her fork and holding it close in front of her eyes, as if either examining the finish, or trying to catch her reflection in the tines.

He suppressed a derisive snort of laughter and muttered, “Hardly.”

Her eyebrows arched and she turned the fork away from her face, “Don’t forget that I’ve seen inside your thoughts, Draco. Even if you won’t admit it, I know.”

“I’m not going to fall in love with-”

“A blood traitor? Good. That’s the last thing we need right now.” She muttered. Narcissa was finding it hard not to interrupt her sister.  “Quality of the breeding is worth more than your pleasure.”

“Bella!” Narcissa finally interjected. Draco’s face had colored slightly. “That is wildly inappropriate.” She scolded.

Bellatrix turned to look at her sister, an arm falling onto the tabletop with a childish irritation at being chastised. “Well it’s best to get it in his head now than to wait until he-”

“That’s plenty enough, Bella.” Narcissa insisted, glaring at the once-attractive woman.

“Cissy, it’s not something you can-” Once again, she was shushed. She turned her narrowed eyes bitterly on Draco, whose face was still a slight shade or two pinker than usual. “Right, because you’ve not got bedding her in mind _at all_ , do you?” She prompted under her breath.

“Bella.” Narcissa stated. “Do I need to ask you to leave?”

“No, that’s fine. I’ll go.” Draco said, shoving his plate away and pushing his chair back to stand up.

“But you’ve hardly eaten anything-” His mother began concernedly.

“I’m not hungry.” He replied, walking past the table and making his way out of the drawing room, up the marble steps, and down the hall to his own bedroom.

He’d been spending a lot more time there than usual, whereas he’d normally be free to roam the Manor or the grounds as he liked, but things were different now. Bellatrix seemed to be a very conspicuous houseguest. You could always hear her talking, or something. Honestly, it crossed his mind whether the woman ever even slept. He made it a point to avoid her as much as he could. And there were always people in the Manor, it seemed. Occasionally, the Dark Lord would even decide to grace them all with his much unwanted presence. Then, of course, they would all be called into the drawing room and seated at the table. All of the invited, anyway. Normally, that would be the highest ranking of them.

The first time it happened -- since he’d come back from Hogwarts, anyway -- he had been told by his mother not to leave his room until he was told otherwise. Bellatrix had been standing at her shoulder when Narcissa had said this and had tauntingly remarked that he never knew what he might come across lest he go wandering about when he shouldn’t.

It was hours later when Bellatrix tossed open his door. “Come along, boy.” She’d said after she made certain that he was well-enough dressed. “Looks like you might amount to something, after all.”

The objective was straightforward enough: eliminate Albus Dumbledore. But the consequences were plenty straightforward, too: fail, and you will die. It was terrifying, knowing that. But he couldn’t’ve been chosen if they didn’t assume he had a chance, could he have? It’d be counterproductive to assign a task to someone who they all thought wouldn’t succeed. And they’d chosen him. Even with all the other students whose family members were followers of the Dark Lord, they chose him. So after all of those years of watching Potter so willingly accept the unmerited attention he constantly received, it was Draco’s turn to _earn_ his own piece of acknowledgement.


	7. Introdctions

She had until August. That’s how long Natalie was allowed to stay. In that time, she was determined to show Natalie what her previous year had entailed, with the exception of Hogwarts, considering she couldn’t very well take Nat to Hogwarts in the middle of summer... It just didn’t work that way.

They’d spent most of the day going into nearly every shop in Diagon Alley, at Nat’s whim. They hadn’t bought anything, saying they’d come back so Rem could get her school supplies, anyway.

Not long after arriving, they had visited Weasleys’ Wizarding Wheezes, which Natalie had been beyond thrilled about, and nearly begged Remington to buy her a Pygmy Puff. She’d thought it was quite amazing that Rem actually knew the two attractive gingers that ran the store, and had tried a hand at flirting with both of the twins.

Somewhere along the line after they moved on, they’d run into Fay and Remington had introduced the two girls. Though Fay seemed a bit surprised by Natalie’s exuberant energy, and Nat a bit put out by Fay’s lack of it, they seemed to get on alright.

They stood all together at the side of the cobblestone road, having just visited Sugarplum’s Sweet Shop. Remington had a couple chocolate frogs, having already eaten one. Fay and her were watching in amusement as Nat went through a box of [Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans](http://harrypotter.wikia.com/wiki/Bertie_Bott%27s_Every_Flavour_Beans). She laughed when the blonde popped a greenish bean into her mouth, only to spit it onto the sidewalk.

“Absolutely _not_ guacamole!” She said, making a face.

Remington shook her head lightly, glancing back at her friend as she lifted another bean for inspection before sticking it cautiously into her mouth. The girl never learned anything.

“And you’re still going to eat them?” Fay asked in disbelief.

“I want to find myself one that tastes like a Big Mac.” Natalie remarked, chewing on the bean. “I think this one’s carrots, but I’m not really sure.”

Fay was staring, but Rem rolled her eyes.

“Alvers?” She recognized the voice immediately, and felt her stomach clench slightly as she looked over Natalie’s shoulder to see a very familiar white-blonde boy standing just a couple yards away, where he’d apparently stopped walking when he’d seen her.

She stuffed her chocolate frog boxes into her handbag before responding, “Malfoy.” Her eyes not leaving his.

She felt Nat’s elbow rest on her shoulder once the girl had moved to stand at Rem’s side. “So this is the infamous dreamboat, huh?” She remarked tactlessly, bringing a quick, telling blush to Rem’s face.

Draco smirked slightly at Remington’s humiliation. Fay scowled indignantly at him.

“Huh. Didn’t expect him to be so blond.” Nat continued. “You always seemed to like the darker boys better.”

“Natalie!” Remington hissed under her breath.

“Well I’m not sure whether that’s an insult or a compliment.” Draco commented.

“Take it as an insult.” Fay snapped, “It’s better deserved.”

“It’s more like her thoughts spoken aloud.” Rem said a bit sharply, speaking across Fay and shrugging the other girl’s elbow off her shoulder.

“Are introductions in order at all, Alvers?” He inquired.

“Natalie Ravscroft.” Nat responded for herself, “Muggleborn.” She added a bit snobbishly.

“That’s not something you should be advertising.” He remarked, giving Natalie a look.

“Just letting you know. Normally your kind get upset when they find out they’ve spent their time on someone they deem inferior.” She said, her voice as chipper as always, but edged in a warning.

“Well I can tell why you and Alvers are friendly.” Draco said, glancing at Remington.

She arched her eyebrows, “I knew this would happen with you two.” She muttered.

“Fine, you know what?” Natalie said, “Why don’t we go back to the candy store, Fay? I want more jelly beans.” She looked pointedly at Fay, who simply looked back for a moment before slowly saying, “Sure.”

Remington stared at them in minor irritation as they turned to walk back to Sugarplum’s.

“I daresay that her attitude is nearly worse than yours.” Draco remarked.

“She’s just... she feels like she’s losing me.” Rem murmured, turning her eyes on him. “I hope you know they’re not coming back.”

“We can find them later.” He said, tipping his head to gesture that they walk in the opposite direction.

She looked at him for a moment, but decided to follow. “So what brings you to Diagon Alley?” She asked conversationally.

“We’re in town for my father’s trial.” He replied tersely.

“Oh,” She said quietly, a bit nervously, “Ah-”

“My mother decided that we might as well kill two birds with one stone.” He cut across her, as if she’d never spoken.

“School shopping?” Rem inquired.

“Somewhat.” He responded. She got the feeling that there was something he wanted to add, so she didn’t say anything right away. She started to doubt her impression after a short bit of silence. “I’d like you to come along.”

“Shop-” She started to ask, her eyebrows furrowing.

“To the trial.” He interrupted.

She cast a disbelieving, sidelong look in his direction. “What about Natalie?” She asked.

“Bring her along if you must.” He said nonchalantly.

She would’ve asked if he was sure, but she knew better. He wouldn’t have offered if he wasn’t sure. That wasn’t a very Draco-esque thing for him to do. “Alright.”


	8. Woe In The Court

He was seated beside his mother, Bellatrix not having been allowed outside of the house since she was still considered a highly dangerous criminal and being sent back to Azkaban wasn’t exactly on her bucket list. Narcissa was wringing her hands as she stared down apprehensively at her husband, detained in a cage and looking supremely disheveled. He no longer appeared the collected, influential, and handsome man that he’d been, but rather a hollow, defeated shell of himself.

Draco was very aware that his mother would very much have liked to have gripped his hand for support, but it felt wrong. He’d be offering up his left hand, just above which, on the inside of his forearm was something his mother could barely stand to think about. The Dark Mark was little more than a horrendous, painful reminder for her anymore. Particularly since it plagued her sister, her husband, and now her only son, as well.

Unlike Draco, however, Narcissa was very aware that Draco’s mission was little more than an act of revenge against Lucius. She could very well lose her husband, if not permanently, then to the clutches of Azkaban. And her son was meant to die within a year.

On his right, Remington sat, not completely comfortably. She had been one of the ones to help get Lucius Malfoy into the cage at the bottom of the tiered seats, and now she was sitting beside the two people who most wanted him freed.

When they’d met up with Narcissa before the trial, she’d been about in the same state as when she came to pick Draco up from Platform 9 ¾. She was polite and reasonably kind, though a bit... distant. There was a look in her eyes that was... not necessarily harsh, but cold. She’d readily greeted Natalie, who had the sense to remain civil, and had even offered a warm smile to Remington. It was almost like she could guess what Rem’s feelings for her son were, and regarded them fondly. Surprisingly enough, she also didn’t ask any questions about Draco wanting to bring two girls along.

Natalie’s courtesy seemed to be reserved for Narcissa, however. “That’s his father?” She whispered in Rem’s ear, barely loud enough to hear. Remington gave a slight nod, looking down at her lap. “But- he’s a _Death Eater_ , Remington.” Nat said in disbelief.

“I know that, Natalie.” Rem muttered to the blonde, not without impatience.

“How can-” Nat stumbled, her volume raising a couple decibels before dropping back to a hiss, “ _You’re trying to climb in bed with the son of a Death Eater_?”

“ _Natalie_.” Remington snapped under her breath.

“You realize that it’s people like me that they want dead,” She pressed on quietly.

“Don’t say that, Nat.” Rem stated slowly, still not loud enough for any but Natalie to hear.

“I can’t believe you.” The girl said, her voice a bit louder than Remington would have liked, as she leaned back in her seat, crossing her arms and scowling at the accused.

Rem stared at her for a moment, at loss, before she settled back in her seat as well, casting a sidelong look at Draco, whose expression betrayed nothing. She took a deep breath, sinking a bit lower in her seat.

Finally, the trial began. A stern-looking woman with dark blonde hair pulled into a perfect bun at the nape of her neck was seated on the highest perch on the opposite side of the room, wearing the characteristic robes that the rather more important Ministry workers donned. She started out by addressing the charges against Lucius, obviously having no time or patience for theatrics or dawdling. The list wasn’t particularly long, though it wasn’t pretty, either, considering all the laws that had been broken during the blunder at the Ministry just a while ago. Finally, he was asked whether he denied any of the charges.

Lucius seemed to hesitate for a moment, not quite able to force the words out, “I do not.” He finally managed in a voice quite unlike the one Rem had heard in the Prophecy Hall.

Draco exhaled deeply, causing Remington to turn another sidelong glance in his direction. Without looking at him, she let her hand curl around his, where it rested on the armrest between them. Generally, he ignored the gesture.

“The desired sentence is the Dementor’s Kiss,” The woman continued. Narcissa gave a small, dry sob on the other side of Draco. “Those in favor-” A few of the justices raised their hands, but it only amounted to about a third of the whole. “Those in favor of a life sentence in Azkaban?” The woman’s hand rose, along with the majority of the rest. With that, a pair of dementors swept into the room to take custody of Lucius Malfoy.

Remington risked a glance at Natalie, to see her looking down on the scene with a mixture of satisfaction and indifference.


	9. An End And The Beginning

The last couple weeks with Natalie were strained. Remington felt a bit heartbroken that her friend had such an edge to her behavior. She knew it was because no matter what Nat said, Rem insisted on reassuring her that she loved Draco. Natalie was hurt over the associations that Draco had, and over the fact that she was convinced that she was a lost cause to Rem. That she was no longer going to be Remington’s sisterfriend.

Remington had convinced herself that this was going to be it. With Natalie so resigned to the idea that their friendship was hitting a roadblock, and with the distance that was going to be between them, they probably wouldn’t be able to stay in close contact. Particularly when you considered that when Nat put her mind to something, she couldn’t be swayed. That was something they had in common. Unending stubbornness.

So when she said goodbye to Nat before she headed back to the US, she felt like she was saying her last farewells to someone on their deathbed. She felt miserable for much of the next day, then sucked it up and packed for Hogwarts. It was only days before the Express would arrive.

**=+=+=+=**

She wasn’t sure where Fay was, or Ginny for that matter, but she hadn’t wanted to stay on the platform. She didn’t have a reason to. Unlike many of the other families wishing their children farewell, a simple goodbye was all that was necessary between her and her mother.

She walked through the corridors of the Express, trying to find a compartment with a familiar face. Towards the front half of the train, she caught sight of a flash of red hair before a compartment slid open right in front of her. Ginny apparently hadn’t been expecting Rem to be just outside the door. She looked at the older girl for a moment, then realized who she was staring at.

“Rem!” She squealed, jumping forward to wrap her arms around Remington and give a rib-bending squeeze.

As much as she could with what little breathing room she had, Rem laughed, “I was looking for you!”

“I thought you’d be in Dean’s compartment,” Ginny remarked when she finally released the other girl. “I was just about to go back there.”

“You know where they are?” Remington asked.

“Yeah, way in the back.” Ginny said as they started moving down the narrow corridor, occasionally slipping past a group of students, or a lone straggler. “I can’t believe I haven’t seen you all summer!” She commented, grinning at Rem. “Fred and George said they saw you in the shop.”

“Yeah.” Remington said, giving Ginny a look. “And they also said they’d heard things about me and- a certain blonde person. I wonder who told them that...”

“I wasn’t the only one!” The redhead argued. “They wanted to know if you and Seamus had gotten together yet.”

“Oh, god-” Rem groaned.

“Oh, don’t worry.” Ginny said, waving it off. “I told them to mind their own bloody business, or else ask you themselves.”

“Right, I’m so sure those were your _exact_ words-”

“Oh, goodie.” Came a sarcastic voice just up ahead. A dark-haired girl with a Slytherin tie thrown haphazardly around her neck was leaning against the door to a compartment. “Welcome back, Alvers. It’s positively _terrific_ to see you again.” The girl said snidely.

“Oh, hush up, Parkinson.” Ginny snapped. “Go back to your doghouse.”

Remington put her hand on Ginny’s back, trying to push her onward.

“Mmm. I’d rather have a doghouse than your-” Pansy remarked, smirking, “Well, I’m not sure if I’d even call it a _shack_.”

“Keep walking, Ginny.” Rem said quietly when the girl shot a venomous look over her shoulder. “It’s too flattering to even acknowledge her.”

“Draco’s been doing well more than that for me.” Pansy commented under her breath, clearly trying her best to get under anyone’s skin that she could manage.

Ginny hadn’t heard; she kept walking down the corridor, but Remington turned around, meeting Pansy’s triumphant smirk with a raised eyebrow. “Why don’t you-”

“Pansy,” An irritable voice said from inside the compartment. “What’s the holdup? Close the door.”

“Of course.” Pansy said, giving Remington a final look before slipping inside and sliding the door shut.

Resisting the urge to slam her fist into the glass of the compartment door, Rem turned and continued down the corridor. She knew Draco was in that compartment, too. Where else would he be sitting other than with his fellow sixth year Slytherins?

She wasn’t nearly gullible enough to take Pansy’s comment to heart. Not to say that it didn’t bother her. What had she ever done to the girl?

The first compartment she found that held people she knew was indeed towards the back.

“What took you so long?” Ginny asked when she saw Remington open the door. She was sitting with her back against the wall that the window was placed on, Dean beside her, his body angled to face her. He flashed a smile at Remington and said a quick hello before shifting his attention back to his girlfriend. Seamus was in the seat next to his friend, and though his greeting to Rem wasn’t quite as warm, he did offer a fleeting half-smile, which was better than she’d been given before the summer holidays.

“What do you think?” Rem answered Ginny, falling into a spot on the opposite bench, next to Fay.

“I hate Parkinson.” Ginny remarked, rolling her eyes. “What’d she say?”

Remington gave her a look, but didn’t say anything. She wasn’t about to talk about Draco in a compartment full of Gryffindors.

“You just missed it,” Fay said, grinning, “Ginny hexed Zacharias Smith something awful. That new professor- Slughorn or whatnot- pretty impressed he was-”

Rem gave a light laugh, “Why’d you do that?” She asked the Weasley girl.

“Wouldn’t leave me alone about the Ministry,” She replied, as if she should’ve been a bit harsher than just a good hex. “Annoying prat.”

“Slughorn invited her for- what’d he say? A bite of lunch?” Dean added, smiling at Ginny.

“He did indeed.” Ginny agreed. “Speaking of which- I should probably go.” She got up, murmuring a goodbye as she stepped into the corridor.

In the lull of the train ride, everyone swapped stories of the summer and caught everyone up on the important stuff. It felt nice to be back. And she actually felt like she belonged, sitting on the Hogwarts Express and speeding towards another year of school.

Towards the end of the trip, Ginny reappeared, rolling her eyes and explaining what exactly Slughorn wanted when Dean asked. And once they’d gotten their robes on, Hermione showed up at the door to their compartment.

Remington grinned and called a hello, which Hermione returned with a smile of her own. “I was wondering,” She said, “If any of you had seen Harry.”

“Negative.” Fay responded.

“Well, when him, Neville, and I were walking back, he ran off saying that he’d see us later.” Ginny shrugged.

“That’s what Neville said, too, but nobody knows where he ran off to.” Hermione remarked. “I just hope he hasn’t gone and gotten himself into trouble.”

“I’m sure he’s lurking about here somewhere,” Rem assured her. “We’ll find him at the feast.”

“Right,” Hermione said distractedly, “Great to see you all again!” She said before slipping back into the corridor.


	10. A Blind Eye

Harry showed up just as the pudding appeared in the Great Hall, dried blood covering much of his face.

“Why is it he’s always covered in blood?” Ginny murmured from her side.

But when Harry sat down, he refused to tell them why he was bloodied this time. Though, later in the feast, Remington caught sight of Draco miming the shattering of a nose as the Slytherins around him laughed and clapped. She had a bit of a hunch as to what may have happened, and that thought intensified when she glanced at Harry to see him glaring at Draco’s display.

“I could talk to him.” She whispered to Harry under her breath.

“You know- ?” Harry began to ask in surprise, just as quietly.

“I can guess.” She remarked, jerking her chin in Draco’s direction.

Harry made a slightly irritated face at that, glancing towards the Slytherin table. Then he said, “So you haven’t deserted us?” Good-natured, but dubious.

“Why on earth would you think that?” She inquired sweetly before turning back to her plate.

A couple moments later, Harry spoke up again, once again keeping his voice inconspicuously quiet. Just a casual, nonchalant exchange of words between two Gryffindors sitting across the table from each other.

“I know it’s not really my place to say-” Harry began a bit uncomfortably, “Well, I thought I should warn you that Malfoy seemed pretty friendly with Parkinson on the train....”

Remington was reminded sharply of Nat’s claims that Draco merely wanted sex, and of even earlier remarks from Fay. She knew that a part of it could always be that Harry simply despised Draco, but she felt a small twinge of doubt for a second.

But was she really any better? So he was cozy with Pansy. She’d not only humored Seamus, but kissed both him and Isaac. Who was she to call Draco out on it? Once again, she reminded herself that they weren’t a couple.

“I appreciate the thought, Harry,” She said, “But I can hold my own.” She flashed a fleeting half-smile.

“I hope so.” Harry responded softly before shifting his attention to the food in front of him.

The rest of dinner passed generally uneventfully. The news of Snape finally reaching his desired position of D.A.D.A. professor came as a minor shock to everyone, but it was accepted before everyone was dismissed to head to bed.

As people began to get to their feet to leave, Remington managed to stretch on her toes, looking over the heads of some of the students. Her gaze finally settled on Draco, whose eye she just managed to catch.

She hung back as most of the students filtered out, keeping an eye on Draco as he headed towards the doors. Only when she was about to lose sight of him did she move from the Gryffindor table. When she stepped into the Entrance Hall, she found him waiting at the top of the steps to the dungeons. The corridor was mostly deserted, the majority of students having moved on to their common rooms. His eyes seemed to take her in for a moment before he jerked his head for her to follow.

He led her to a disused classroom just off the main hall. She kept in mind what she wanted to talk to him about, though she was itching to ask him about his summer and tell all about her own. She knew he wouldn’t be interested in her trivial pursuits over the break, but he’d listen. He always did.

As soon as the door shut, she set into him.

“You have about as much humanity as a guillotine.” She remarked. “You think I don’t know what happened to Harry?”

“It wasn’t really my intention to keep it from you.” He commented.

“You are a jackass.” She muttered.

“Thank you Remington.” He said sarcastically, bitterly, “I’m gratified.”

“Well why on earth-”

“He was eavesdropping from the luggage rack.” Draco hissed.

Her expression grew a bit confused. Why would Harry feel the need to eavesdrop on Draco? “You still didn’t need to-”

“He would’ve happily done the same to me, Rem. Don’t argue.” He rolled his eyes irritably.

She couldn’t deny his point. “Why was he eavesdropping?” Certainly Draco would have some sort of explanation.

“Do you think I know? It’s Potter we’re talking about.” Draco muttered.

She shook her head at him. He glared back lightly. He knew she suspected something. Of course, her suspicions couldn’t be nearly as bad as the real thing. Not even a day into the school year, and his track record already sucked.

She leaned against a desk, her eyes resting on him in light annoyance, but then she decided that it wasn’t worth starting a row with him over the issue. Finally, a faint smile began to form on her lips, “Guess what I got on my Potions O.W.L.”

“I’m sure you’re going to tell me anyway.”

“’Outstanding’.” She said, obviously quite pleased with herself. “So all of that work paid off. And you?”

“’Outstanding’ in Charms, and ‘Exceeds Expectations’ in Astronomy.” He replied indifferently.

She smiled at him, “Oh, come on. That’s not bad. I mean, I can continue Potions, you can continue Charms, though I know you’re not about to continue Astronomy.”

He shrugged, “I suppose. Though, it’d be nice to have an excuse to not take a class or two.” He flashed a slightly joking expression.

“Well, of course I’d love to get out of taking Potions, particularly if Snape was still- Oh, hell.” She said, remembering that she’d been skimping on doses of her sleep draught the last few days because she was running low. Actually, she’d been running low all summer. The supply that Snape had given her at the end of term before summer seemed to have been a bit short. She pushed away from the desk.

“What now?” He asked.

“I needed to see Snape.” She said, adding a bit gracelessly, “You know.” She scrunched her nose a bit. “And I’ve a feeling I’m going to have my ass chewed for not getting this taken care of with a bit more time before curfew. They’re really cracking down on that rule this year, I guess.”

“Are they?” He prompted quietly.

“Dumbledore said that- You-” She began, “You’d know, wouldn’t you? You’re a prefect-” But he was shaking his head. Her brow creased, “Why not?”

“It’s not worth the trouble.” He muttered.

“But,” She trailed off, really not understanding why he’d give up his extra powers.

“You’d better visit Snape.” He said, tipping his head towards the door.

“Right.” She said after a slight pause. She looked at him for a moment, expecting _something_ , but then left the room without another word.

It was a short walk to the new Defence Against the Dark Arts professor’s office. She knocked lightly on the door, glad to not have anyone wandering the corridors to give her strange looks. She slipped inside as soon as Snape responded.

She walked towards his desk, where he was sitting back in his chair, an elbow on the armrest and his chin propped in his hand. She pressed her lips together in a weak half-smile, “I’m sure you know why I’m here.” She slipped her hands into the front pockets of her jeans. Actually, she had the vibe that he was there, still awake, because he knew she’d be coming to visit.

“And I’m sure you know what I’m going to tell you.” He countered, arching his eyebrows.

She winced slightly. “I didn’t remember until now.” She muttered.

“Take care to stay within curfew from here on, Remington.” He gave a pointed look, then continued, “I hope you understand that this draught was only meant to be a _temporary_ solution.” He commented, shifting and steepling his hands in front of him. “To hold you over until your mind surpassed the nightmares.”

“But what if I have the dreams again?” She demanded.

“This summer, I believe you ran out of the draught, did you not?” He inquired.

“That was on purpose!” She said suddenly, “Wasn’t it? You meant for me to run out.”

“Did you happen to have the nightmare at all?” He ignored her outburst.

“I didn’t have _those_ dreams.” She muttered, then added under her breath. “But I had others.” She wasn’t about to tell him about _that_ particular set of dreams, though.

“You’re going to make an attempt to cease taking the draught.” He said. “I’d like to speak to you after a few weeks, though.” He commented. “That is, if you don’t have the dream before then.”

“Aye, aye, Captain.” She mumbled, saluting contemptuously and turning to saunter out of the room.


	11. Back To The Way-

The next morning at breakfast, Professor McGonagall cleared her for all of Astronomy, Charms, Defence Against the Dark Arts, Potions, Herbology, and Transifugration. At this, Fay gawped.

“All six of them?” She said under her breath.

“Did you not hear me talking about the requirements to be an Auror?” Remington responded, rolling her eyes and snatching a pastry off one of the plates on the table as Fay was consulted quickly by McGonagall.

“Well looks like you’ll be taking Astronomy and Potions without me.” Fay commented as the Head of House trailed away to speak with the other students.

“Four out of six classes together isn’t bad.” Rem commented, getting to her feet, stuffing the last bit of the pastry into her mouth and snatching another before they set off to get their things together for Defence Against the Dark Arts.

When the time came to actually get to class, Remington could tell that Fay was regretting having signed up for the class. As they walked into the room, the whole student body took notice of the pictures hanging on the wall of grotesque spells and strange mutations.

“Even closer to medieval torture devices.” Fay remarked under her breath to Rem once they’d taken seats beside each other, “It wasn’t as bad while he was with Potions...”

And it only got worse when he sent them off to work in pairs, practicing nonverbal spells.

“Without speaking?” Fay said in disbelief, getting to her feet. “Cast a spell _without speaking_? Wasn’t there a reason we were all taught incantations?”

“Stop fretting about it, Fay, go stand over there.” Remington waved her off, earning a glare, though Fay did as Rem asked. She was excited to start. Casting spells nonverbally seemed like a direly important thing for her to know if she were to be an Auror, not to mention that it would be quite entertaining to be practicing hexes in the middle of class.

She just didn’t take into account how damned difficult it would be.

Fay had made Remington attempt an offensive role first, so that Rem wouldn’t be able to make fun of her if she failed right away. Fay usually caught on to spells rather quickly, but new things like this tended to stump her for some time before she mastered it. The last thing she wanted was to fail horribly, then watch Rem get the hang of it twice as fast.

After about five minutes of focusing with all she had, Remington was frustrated. “It doesn’t work.” She complained. “I don’t understand what we’re supposed to be doing.”

“Try to turn me into a jaguar.” Fay offered. “Just don’t speak.”

“Oh, funny.” Rem snapped. “But what do we _do_?” She said, “Think the incantation? Vision the results of the spell?”

“Let me try.” Fay suggested. Though, after a while, it was obvious that she didn’t have any better luck.

“I told you so.” Remington taunted finally.

“You didn’t do any better, prat.” Fay countered.

“Never said I did.” She returned, sticking her tongue out at Fay’s glare.

“You are to be practicing nonverbal magic, Miss Alvers, not making immature faces at your partner.” Snape’s drawl came from over her shoulder.

Rather than jumping slightly like most other Gryffindors, she made another ‘immature face’ and responded as she would be expected, “Of course, Sir.”

When she arrived in the dungeons for her Potions class, after a break that she spent with Fay, trying to sort out their D.A.D.A. homework (which they didn’t progress with very well), she came to find that the class was going to be quite sparsely populated.

She pulled up a seat beside Hermione, and Ernie Macmillan claimed the seat beside her, the only Hufflepuff in the class.

“You made it in, eh?” Ron commented from across the table once everyone started to settle in for class, their attentions mostly seized by the cauldrons of various substances that were placed at the front of the room.

“Surprised, Ronald?” Rem prompted with a smile, turning her eyes on the potion closest to the Gryffindor table. It seemed to be much more aromatic than the others, giving off a simply _delicious_ smell. She tipped her head towards Hermione, “Is that-” She began quietly.

“Amortentia?” Hermione finished for her, nodding.

“That explains it.” Remington muttered just before Slughorn called the class to attention.

“Now then, I’ve prepared a few potions for you to have a look at, just out of interest, you know. These are the kind of thing you ought to be able to make after completing your N.E.W.T.s. You ought to have heard of ‘em, even if you haven’t made ‘em yet. Anyone tell me what this one is?” He indicated the cauldron closest the table that the Slytherins had claimed.

Hermione quickly answered that it was Veritaserum. To this, Ernie commented under his breath, “Had a few nice run-ins with _that_ last year, didn’t we?”

The next potion in line, Hermione informed the class, was Polyjuice Potion. And when they reached the gold-ish cauldron in front of their table, Hermione started a round of something that Rem didn’t particularly approve of.

“And the steam rising in characteristic spirals, and it’s supposed to smell differently to each of us, according to what attracts us, and I can smell freshly mown grass and new parchment and-” Hermione’s enthusiastic rant cut off abruptly when her face started to color a bit in embarrassment.

“Very good, very good,” Slughorn said bemusedly, “Anyone else wish to share what they smell?” He inquired.

Padma’s hand shot up, and before he had a chance to call on her, she said enthusiastically, “I smell chocolate cake, carnations, and oranges.”

“Very good, very good.” Slughorn said, “I should only expect the ladies to enjoy stating their brand of Amortentia rather more than the gentlemen. What about you, Miss-” She’d hope she’d avoid it, but he was looking directly at her.

“Alvers.” Remington said, dreading having to sort out what she could smell wafting from the cauldron.

“You wouldn’t possibly be related to Timothy Alvers, would you?” Slughorn inquired.

“My father.” She replied curtly.

“Yes, yes. Quite a tragedy... So young...” He trailed off a tender note in his voice, likely to soothe her, though his efforts were unnecessary. “What is it you smell?”

She wanted to slap herself for nearly glancing across the room at a boy sitting at the Slytherin table. “Um,” She paused, “Vanilla and- coconut.” She shook her head the slightest bit.

“Indeed, sometimes it is hard to decipher.” He stated sympathetically, moving on with the lesson.

But it wasn’t so much that she couldn’t tell the scents apart, but rather that she didn’t think it’d be very appropriate to announce to the class that she smelled Draco Malfoy.

When they set to the main event of the class -- brewing a Draught of Living Death worthy enough to earn a day’s worth of Felix Felicis -- she wondered what she’d gotten herself into. Even Hermione seemed to be struggling.

After all the time she spend pouring over her Potions book last year, and studying and practicing everything with Draco’s help, she’d improved a quite a bit at the art of potion-making. She still had difficulties following directions, but throughout the class, her Draught was only slightly discolored compared to Hermione’s, or a bit too thick or watery. She wasn’t too horribly interested in winning the Liquid Luck, anyway. It’d be nice, sure, but she’d hardly be heartbroken if she didn’t get it. So at the end of class, she was reasonably proud of her result, being that she couldn’t have done too much worse than Hermione, the best student in their class, and Rem’s certainly wasn’t as terrible as Ron’s sticky, black concoction.

But to the utter surprise of the whole class, Harry’s potion was dead-on. The entire Slytherin table was glaring blamefully at Harry as the class began to file out at the end of the hour.

“Miss Alvers, would you mind staying back for a quick word?” Slughorn inquired of her as she started to pile her books into her bag.

“Uh- sure. Of course.” She said, a bit unsurely, not certain what to expect. Once she’d gathered her things, she went to stand before his desk, where he was seated.

“The name is Remington, am I correct?” He began.

“Indeed.” She responded, holding onto the strap of her bag.

Slughorn shook his head slowly, “I was a bit surprised that you’re attending Hogwarts, last I heard your family was settled nicely in the United States-”

“My mother moved us here after the accident.” Rem explained tersely.

“Of course, it makes sense.” He nodded. “But you- You’ve certainly inherited some of his academic skills. Timothy was always a talented potioneer, quite more so than Marissel, if I do say.” His eye seemed to shine a bit, fondly. “You won’t tell on me, will you?”

“Certainly not, Sir.” She gave a half-hearted smile, shifting on her feet. It was strange to hear him talking about her parents. She’d never heard an outsider speak of her mother and father before, about how they’d been at her age.

“Your own talents were somewhat visible today. The Draught of Living Death, of course, is a bit of a challenge compared to what you’re used to, I’m sure. And the break that the summer holidays gave certainly didn’t help, am I right?” Slughorn continued, “Ah, I think I’ll be needing to gather together a few of the school’s rising stars rather soon. Would you like to attend as well, Remington? I’m sure you’ll get along just fine...”

She forced herself to keep a charmed smile, “I’d be glad to, Sir.”

He smiled back at her broadly, “Glorious. We’ll say, next Saturday?” She gave a slight nod. “Oh, dear me. I shouldn’t be keeping you. A N.E.W.T. student such as yourself must have an ample amount of homework to be doing!”

“Thank you, Sir.” She said with a final smile before she headed toward the door, the smile fading as soon as her face was no longer visible.


	12. Evasion Tactics

If she wasn’t mistaken, it seemed as though Draco was avoiding her. Not a sort of purposeful, obvious aversion, but rather that he made absolutely no attempt at speaking to her, or even looking at her. She’d know, considering that all through meals, she spent a fair amount of her time glancing at Slytherin table. And not very different were classes-

It wasn’t as if she had any clue how she’d be able to get him alone to talk to him. He was no longer a prefect, and wouldn’t be doing patrols at night. She most likely wouldn’t be able to catch him like she did the first night. Particularly since he never so much as _glanced_ in her direction.

She pushed a sprout around on her plate, chasing it with her fork. She glared at the small green vegetable in thought, not noticing that Fay’s attention had fallen on her.

“Haven’t you been told not to play with your food?” The other girl finally asked, “Or attempt to torture inanimate things-”

“I’ve heard it plenty from my mother.” Rem muttered, scooping up the sprout and flinging it at Fay, who ducked out of the way, letting it sail over her shoulder and hit the back of a seventh year Hufflepuff at the next table.

When he turned to see who or what had hit him, Fay was twisted in her seat, a hand over her mouth, and Rem seemed to be totally and thoroughly involved in getting herself more sprouts.

“You can’t just do that, Rem!” Fay hissed under her breath once she was sure the Hufflepuff had turned back, “You’ll start a food fight.”

“All the more exciting.” She popped a sprout into her mouth. Her eyes flicked to the Slytherin table once more. “I have to use the bathroom.” She said suddenly.

“Oh, not _that_ excuse again.” Fay muttered.

“Shuddup, Fay.” Rem mumbled, stepping over the bench and heading towards the doors.

She didn’t really know what her plan was, but she decided that she might as well do _something_. She was tired of sitting around waiting for him to make the move, particularly when she knew he never would.

She descended the stairs to the dungeons, her feet barely hitting each step. The main corridor of the dungeons extended on either side of the landing at the bottom. The doors nearest the steps led to classrooms or teacher offices. Farther away, around a corner off to her right, she knew, was the Slytherin common room.

Not feeling that there was any reason to go the other direction, she started walking slowly down the right-hand corridor. She had to come up with something-

She heard the footsteps on the stairs as she was passing a door. She wasn’t sure what was on the other side, but she pushed it open, slipping inside. She wasn’t in the mood to catch strange looks for being a Gryffindor in the dungeons, or to answer questions from anyone considering themselves her superior.

The room appeared as though it may have once been used as a classroom, but had shifted to something more along the lines of a storeroom. A couple wheeled chalk boards were shoved against the opposite wall, desks pushed to the back of the room, chairs stacked into towers. Their figures were only slightly visible, from what illumination could squeeze beneath the door.

Suddenly, light swept across the room. “You could use a little work on your evasion tactics.”

She whipped around, her hand on her wand, which was -- as always -- stowed in her back pocket. Her eyes narrowed on Draco, who leaned leisurely against the door frame and crossed his arms, the thick wooden door wide open. “So could you.” She remarked. “You know that it’s kind of counterproductive if you follow the person you’re bent on ignoring.”

He rolled his eyes. “Don’t be melodramatic, Remington.”

“Why don’t you take your own advice?” She shot back. “I’m not the one giving the silent treatment for no bloody reason.”

“Like you’ve made any more attempts at conversation than I have.” He shook his head lightly.

“Because I thought you might come around _eventually_.” She muttered. “But you’re intent on being an insufferable prat.”

He pushed off from the frame, hooking the door with a hand and letting it swing shut. “How could I have already done something wrong?” He asked sourly, “It’s hardly been a week.”

“A week and a half.” She corrected bitterly. “And you’ve talked to me _once_.”

“I’ve been- busy.” She could see him shrug in the dim light.

She wasn’t a forward person. She’d never been a forward person. She never made the first move.  It was perpetual reservation.

But she was sick of his detached behavior. She kissed him with little warning. She’d expect him to at least _touch_ her within so much time of being back in the castle, but he hadn’t.

Soon, she was leaned against the wall, but soon, also, he’d broken the kiss. “That wasn’t a wise move, Alvers.” He breathed.

“You’re bothering me, Malfoy.” She returned, her hands were on his neck, her fingers touching the blond hair at the back of his head. She wanted him to stop talking. To kiss her again.

“In what context?” He inquired, one of his hands was curled around her waist.

“Several.” She replied tersely, her eyes grazing over his face, waiting.

He shook his head at her lightly before reaching up and lightly pulling on her wrists so that her soft grip on the back of his neck would release.

“And that’s one of them.” She muttered irritably, but he merely rolled his eyes and started heading towards the door.

“I didn’t know you were so keen to sleep with me, Alvers.” He remarked as he walked, not looking back at her.

“It’s not that-” She began indignantly.

He turned around when he reached the door, grabbing onto the doorknob behind his back, smirking at her in amusement, tauntingly. “Sure it’s not.” And he slipped out into the corridor.

In irritation and frustration, she knocked her head back against the wall, and immediately regretted it when she started to see blotches of black dance across her vision.

She’d said goodbye to all her friends back at her _true_ home, to make room for the ones here. Accepting the fact that she was now a citizen of the UK and a student of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. And it seemed like she was losing Draco already.

Couldn’t she do anything right?


	13. Rising Stars

“What would you wear?” Remington commented, leaning over the trunk at the end of her bed, chewing on her lip as she scrutinized the clothes piled inside.

“I don’t know, Rem.” Fay muttered, “Does it matter? There’ll only be a few other people there, and none of them are very important-”

“But I’m expected to be some sort of future, super-successful person. How is a person like that supposed to _dress_?” She gave a huff, pulling out a pair of jeans that she felt suited her particularly well.

Just then, Hermione walked into the dormitory, lugging her book bag. She’d not made it halfway to her bed before Remington had started in.

“Hermione! You’re going to Slughorn’s thing tonight, right?” She asked quickly.

The other girl slowed slightly, surprised at Rem’s urgency. “Yes... why are-”

“What’re you gonna wear?” She prompted, her words almost flowing together.

“I was... just going to wear this. Is there- ?” Hermione gave her a strange look, tugging on the hem of her buttoned-up white shirt nervously.

“No, no.” Remington said, falling back to lean her spine against the trunk. “I just can’t figure out what I want to wear.”

“Oh, just wear those jeans and a shirt like Hermione’s.” Fay groaned, “I’m sure it will scream ‘classy, but casual’ or something.”

Rem snatched up the jeans, “Fat load of help, you were.” She said snottily in Fay’s direction. Fay just stuck her tongue out at her.

When the time finally came to head to the dungeons, Remington had settled on an outfit, and her and Hermione had met up with Ginny so that the three of them could walk down together.

“Any idea what to expect?” Ginny asked. “I hope he doesn’t have pheasant again. I don’t really like it much... Particularly cold...”

“We’ll probably eat some and he’ll spend the remaining time trying to figure out what our connections are like.” Hermione suggested.

“I don’t think I’m going to enjoy this much at all.” Rem commented under her breath.

Ginny gave her a sympathetic look as Hermione pulled the door open in front of them.

To Ginny’s credit, it did not turn out to be pheasant, but to Rem’s distaste, it was roast lamb. She tried to get out of having to put any on her plate, but her hopes were quickly stifled as Slughorn told those who did not take much of something, whether it be the roast lamb or anything else on the menu, to dig in.

And to add to Remington’s displeasure, she ended up seated beside Blaise Zabini. Thankfully, Hermione was on her other side. Slughorn was thoroughly involved in a conversation with Cormac McLaggen, and the remainder of the near-dozen attendees were chatting amongst themselves. Hermione was talking to Ginny at the moment, so Remington was left to lean back in her chair and pick apart a dinner roll in bored silence.

“What landed you here?”

She started slightly, straightening up a bit as she turned her attention on Blaise, who’d spoken to her. She hadn’t paid him much mind through the supper; for the most part he was inconspicuous.

“I’m not exactly sure, to be honest.” She said, dropping her mangled roll onto her plate. “I can’t say whether it was because he thinks I’m a promising student, or because of my father.” She gave a weak, half-hearted smile. She hadn’t noticed before how sharp his eyes were. Calculating, intelligent. “To think I could have easily avoided getting an invite here.” She muttered, leaning her elbow on the table.

He smirked slightly, a different sort of smirk from what she was used to seeing on Draco’s face. “Not honored to be a part of the infamous Slug Club?” He inquired.

“ _Slug Club_?” She repeated with raised eyebrows. “Is that supposed to be a joke?”

“I’m afraid not,” He said.

She made a face. “Wonderful. I’m a member of a group that’s named for a bunch of slimy invertebrates.” Slippery and spineless, sounds familiar...

“Not awfully thrilled, myself.” Blaise said, glancing to make sure Slughorn couldn’t hear them. “But the added _prestige_ or whatnot is helpful.”

“I guess,” She said, “Though, it’s not really making the experience much more enjoyable.” It seemed, however, that the majority of the rest of the guests were having an alright time, with the possible exception of the Carrow twins, who were silent and scowling. But they always were, so it was nothing unusual.

She noticed, though, that between pauses in Ginny and Hermione’s conversation, the redheaded girl would glance in Rem and Blaise’s direction, apparently having noticed that they were talking. And she was sure not to let Remington get away without questioning her about it on the way back.

“So you’re friendly with Zabini, too?” Ginny asked as they walked up to the common room after Slughorn released them.

“That was the first time I’d talked to him.” Rem replied.

“Hm.” Ginny hummed, not saying anything else.

“Is there a problem with me talking to people from other Houses?” Remington inquired.

“Only Slytherin.” Ginny responded. “Honestly, I don’t think you understand that Gryffindors and Slytherins hate each other as a generality.”

“Obviously, I’m not part of the _generality_.” Rem shrugged. “And Blaise talked to me first, what am I supposed to do? Ignore him?”

Ginny gave a slightly exasperated huff and shrugged as well. “It’d be entertaining to see his reaction, but...” She trailed off, “You’re free to do what you like.”


	14. In The Dark Of The Night

Draco didn’t have patrols anymore. The Dungeons wouldn’t have any consolation for her. She hadn’t had the dream again. No, she’d been left alone by those nightmares. But instead, she’d had a normal, run-of-the-mill nightmare. She used to have them a lot when she was little, and she’d always wake up tangled in her blankets, sweating and breathing hard. She’d scramble to turn on her bedside lamp and curl up in the corner, watching her room in fear that whatever had haunted her dreams was still lurking within the walls that enclosed her.

She felt better when she had something to occupy her actions, whether it be walking or putting things away, or anything. It took her energy and allowed her mind to focus, even a slight bit, on something other than the nightmare.

But since she couldn’t believe that there would be any chance Draco would be roaming the Dungeons, she traveled upwards instead. She didn’t know those corridors as well, considering how much more she’d walked the lower ones, so it would entertain her mind a bit more with the small amount of unfamiliarity. Maybe she’d be able to get into the Astronomy Tower. She could only hope-

She was on the seventh floor, walking to the other side of the castle since Gryffindor Tower was about as far from the Astronomy Tower as it could be, when she heard a door shut from behind her, around a corner she’d just passed.

Remington pulled her wand from the waistband of her sweatpants, having had nowhere else to put it since she didn’t have pockets, or even socks. She crept back towards the corner, daring to peer around it. She saw a figure down the hall, but it was looking in the other direction. Just as soon, though, it turned towards her. She yanked herself back against the wall on the other side of the corner. She could’ve sworn she’d been caught, but she couldn’t run now. They’d easily be able to follow the sound of her footsteps. _What if it was Filch?_

She’d be dead. Since they seemed to particularly discourage wandering the halls past curfew. She still didn’t understand why it was such a big deal this year.

She could just barely hear the footfalls of the person, very light, nearly not noticeable, but she was straining to hear them. Most certainly not Filch. And what teacher would try so hard not to be heard when about to catch a student breaking the rules? _Who else would it be?_

The fact that she couldn’t answer had her on edge. Just when the person was about to turn the corner, she threw her wand out, pointed at the offender, but they were ready too, their wand aimed at her heart.

They recognized each other at the same time, “ _Draco_?” She demanded under her breath.

“What the hell-” He began, “What are you doing, Remington? Jesus Christ, I almost-” He ran his hands through his hair.

She lowered her wand slowly. “Almost what?”

He shook his head, “Why are you up here?”

“Bad dreams.” She replied tersely, “Why are _you_ up here?”

He eyed her for a moment. “Someone’s going to show up soon.” He said, half to himself.

“What-” She began to ask.

He gestured for her to follow, “Come on.”

He’d started leading her back the way they’d came. “Can’t you just-” She started, but was shushed.

“I’ll explain in a second. Be quiet.” He hissed.

Somewhere ahead of them, she could hear a light clicking sound. The sound of shoes against the stone. Draco didn’t seem terribly worried, even though he was leading them towards whoever it was, this time likely a teacher, and there weren’t any doors on this particular corridor. Then she realized where they were.

“That’s the Room of Requirement.” She said under her breath as the door started etching itself into the wall. Draco shot her a look to remind her to keep her mouth shut. She made a face at him.

By the time the door was in place and they’d slipped inside, the footsteps were nearly about to round the corner and spot them. The door quickly dissolved behind them.

“What’s going on?” Remington asked, aware that something was up.

“It was probably McGonagall. Sometimes Flitwick patrols up here-” He said quietly, leaning against a trunk that was stashed not far from the door.

It finally occurred to her that this was _not_ the room that the D.A. gathered in. It was piled high, overflowing with every type and style of junk you could imagine. Mounds were stacked nearly to the arching ceiling, leaving paths meandering around them that were only about two feet wide. Off in the distance, a broken record player, or something of that nature was playing a short snip of a song, over and over. She wasn’t sure where the sound was coming from, but there were plenty of other seemingly sourceless sounds drifting about.

“How do you _know_?” She asked, back into their conversation. “You haven’t- You’ve been coming up here regularly, haven’t you?” His face darkened slightly as he looked at her, his expression rather somber. “Why?”

“You had the dream again?” He detracted her focus.

“Not _that_ dream, just a nightmare-” She started to say, about to ask him about why he was there again, but he interrupted her.

“What about?”

“I don’t know, okay?” Which was a lie, but she didn’t want to let him get away without giving her some answers. “Why were you-”

“Snape stopped giving you the draught?” He inquired.

Put out, she exhaled through her nose, propping her hands on her hips. “Yes. He did.”

“Why?” He asked, “How come you didn’t tell me?”

“Because he doesn’t think I’ll have the dream again, and I didn’t tell you because I didn’t think it was terribly important. I _didn’t_ have the dream again.” She explained. She noticed that she’d argued against Snape’s decision, but was now defending it in front of Draco. And as she said it, her eyes drifted from him and elsewhere in the room, so she didn’t see the slightly annoyed look on his face over what she’d told him, though she knew it was there. “What is this place?”

“The Room of Hidden Things.” He said, “What did you call it before?”

“The Room of Requirement.” She said, “Or the Come-and-Go Room. We used it for headquarters for the Army last year, remember?”

“Oh, I most certainly remember catching you when the lot was running from this place like mice.” He said derisively, sneering a bit. “How _vexed_ you were that I took your wand.” He remarked as his eyes slid down to where the item in question was clenched in her hand.

“And _don’t_ do it again.” She warned him. She realized that he was trying to change the subject. Again. “So why do you need the Room of Hidden Things?” She asked, looking around again. “This place changes to what the seeker needs at the time. Or what they think they need, anyway.”

He shrugged, glancing at a couple of the piles idly. “What’s up with you dodging questions, anyway?” She prompted. “You’ve been doing it since school started.” When he didn’t respond right away, she pressed, “What did you do this summer?”

“I didn’t do much,” He pronounced, “That’s why I haven’t said anything about it.”

“You had to do _something_ worth mentioning.” She insisted. “Just tell me a couple things.” She leaned against the wall where the door they’d gotten in at had disappeared from. “Just a couple, and I’ll stop bugging you.”

He eyed her for a second. “I went to my father’s trial. You know about that.” He remarked. “I also practiced a bit of Occlumency-”

“You mean where you block someone out of your head?” She inquired, interested.

“Yes.” He answered a little reluctantly.

“Why?” She asked thoughtfully. It seemed like a lot of work to achieve something that wasn’t necessary.

He shrugged, looking at the floor, “Why not?”

She shook her head lightly, “Fair enough.”

He paused, “It’s probably safe now.” He remarked.

“Eager to get rid of me?” She prompted lightly.

“I was just leaving when _you_ showed up.” He said.

“Well excuse me if I’m the only who’d perhaps like to talk now and then.” She said. “I’ve had it up to here-” She held her hand out flat near her ear, “- With you pretty much avoiding me. Or being so _busy_.” She added the last part a bit mockingly.

“Have you now?” He said, sneering slightly.

“If you don’t want me around, tell me.” She said. “I’ll be a bit pissed off that I wasted so much time on you last year, but at least we can both get on with our lives.” The last part was a bit hard to get out, but she didn’t betray the fact, eyeing him with a sliver of irritation. He looked back at her, but didn’t say anything. “It’s either that, or you’ll have to put up with me.” She continued. “You can’t ignore me and expect me to still hang around.” Though, he probably could, despite the fact she’d never admit it.

“Alright.” He said, “But I haven’t been _ignoring_ you.”

“Close enough.” She countered as the door out of the room started to reappear behind her. He rolled his eyes.


	15. The Signs

She was sitting on a low stone wall, not even a yard high. It was tucked off to a side of the castle, beside the trees, but not terribly close to the actual forest. The weather was still decent, though beginning to chill. Winter would set in within a few weeks, no matter how early it seemed.

She scuffed her feet idly on the ground while she flipped through her Transfiguration book, wanting to get an idea of what they’d be doing throughout the year. A nice little chunk of her sixth year had already passed, though it hardly felt that way.

 Her homework was already finished and she needed something to keep her occupied, seeing as Draco never really seemed in the mood to talk anymore. She still hadn’t been spending much time with him, either. Not even as much as she had the year before, which confused and irritated her. She wasn’t about to ask questions, though. He didn’t seem to enjoy hearing them.

He was sitting in the grass a few feet away from her, working on Charms, as she’d convinced him to continue taking it, despite him arguing that he didn’t need to.

After having skimmed the entire book, only stopping to peer at an interesting page here and there, she shut her _Guide to Advanced Transfiguration_ and sighed, looking down at him. She didn’t understand him. She didn’t understand why he was acting so strangely. None of it made much sense, and that wasn’t even the end of it.

Firstly, Draco’s behavior was questionable. He’d given up his place as Prefect. He’d skipped half of his Quidditch practices. He didn’t talk much to anyone, she’d noticed, not even some of those he was friendly with the year before. He didn’t seem to have any inclination to be anything less than a yard from her. His attitude was particularly touchy. There were swoops beneath his eyes, always seeming a bit darker than before. And she was almost certain that he wasn’t eating as much as he should be.

Then, Harry seemed to have taken a particular interest in Draco. He’d been lurking on the luggage rack in Draco’s compartment, as a start, and she knew he’d been talking to Hermione and Ron about him, or trying to, anyway. Sometimes it didn’t seem that they wanted to listen. It hadn’t been until she’d overheard something about Death Eaters that her curiosity over what Harry was saying piqued.

What could possibly have him jumping to conclusions like _that_? Sure he was behaving a bit oddly, but that didn’t make him a minion of You-Know-Who. And even then, honestly, what use would Draco be? He was barely sixteen, still in school, and he didn’t really have any particular talents. There was no legitimate reason that he’d-

She stopped herself from continuing the thought train. It wasn’t even worth contemplating. She’d just end up getting suspicious over something she knew wasn’t viable.

Only when Draco glanced at her, did she realize that she hadn’t taken her eyes from him for some time.

“What?” He asked, already focused back on his homework.

She had to come up with something- “I’ve wondered what you thought of Natalie.” She commented. It would work.

“She doesn’t like me.” He remarked.

Remington looked at him with some surprise, “How would you know?”

“Do you think I didn’t hear you two talking before the trial?” He inquired, turning his eyes on her seriously, eyebrows arched a bit. “I’m assuming that if she liked me, she wouldn’t have so many qualms with you crawling in bed with _the son of a Death Eater_.”

“Oh, Draco,” She said, rolling her eyes. “Can you really blame her? She’s Muggle-born. She’s terrified. And here I am, fraternizing with what she’d not hesitate to call the enemy-”

“The enemy.” He repeated a bit bitterly, his eyes narrowing slightly.

“Not-” She made a frustrated sound, “Just think about it for a second, Draco. Your father belonged to a group of people who want her dead. Not personally, but because of something she had no control over. And you-” But she stopped. He wasn’t listening, having returned to his Charms before she’d even gotten halfway through the second sentence. “Can’t I even talk to you anymore?” She demanded.

“What do you mean?” He snapped, slamming the Charms book shut and dropping it on the ground.

“You’re so- distant, or something.” She responded sharply, “The way you’re acting-”

“And _how_ am I acting?” He asked harshly.

“Nevermind.” She muttered, standing up and grabbing her Transfiguration book. “I just-” She shook her head and began to walk back along the wall.

“God-” She heard Draco complain behind her, a couple seconds before he was at her side, his Charms book in hand. “Why do you have to try running away every time you get upset? I don’t really enjoy chasing after you.”

“Chasing girls? I thought you’d be used to that, Malfoy.” She said, still a little bitter. She knew it wasn’t the right thing to say, and that it merely just ticked him off that much more. “And I do not run away-”

“Bullshit, Alvers.” He shot back at her, using her last name to mock her use of his. “What about that time after I kissed you?” He prompted, “Or when we were in the library after Potter published that bloody article, or how about the time you came to tell me to stop being angry with you and you ended up confessing your virginity?” She looked about to respond indignantly, “And did you not run from your dormitory every time you had the dreams?”

“That is different.” She pronounced venomously.

He made a disdainful sound, “Different-” He breathed irritably.

“And why are we talking about me? I’m not the one acting- strange.” She commented. They’d slowly ground to a stop on the path beside the stone wall.

“Who are you to judge whether I’m acting strange?” Draco inquired.

“Draco,” She said quietly, her voice almost a hiss, but not quite as sharp. “You’re not sleeping. I can tell-” He started to walk again, determinedly not looking at her. “Last year, when I didn’t know you- all I’d been told were bad things- when you asked me why I wasn’t sleeping, I told you. Now, why can’t you just-”

“Come off it, Alvers.” He rolled his eyes, his tone harsh. “It took a bit of prying to get _you_ to talk, too.”

She huffed irritably, crossing her arms.

“Listen,” He said, looking ahead as he walked. “You went to the trial. You know what happened.”

She let her arms drop, risking a glance at him. “You’re right.”


	16. A Taste Of Conspiracy

“You’re crazy!” Fay exclaimed. “Totally and completely insane!” But her shouts were muffled by the wind and her scarf, which she’d wrapped around her face, just below her eyes. She’d been making sudden remarks since they’d stepped out of the castle. It was her way of subtly hinting she wanted to go back inside.

“Suck it up, Buttercup!” Rem shot back, her hands shoved deep into her coat pockets as they made their way to Hogsmeade.

It was indeed very cold, and the wind threw around bits of ice that cut at your eyes and any uncovered bit of flesh. But it wasn’t _wholly_ unbearable. Just slightly so.

“Can’t we turn back?” Fay pleaded. “It’s warm in the castle!” Which was far from true, but at least it wasn’t a windstorm inside.

“We’re almost there, Fay.” Remington insisted. “Jesus-”

“What’s so great about Hogsmeade?” Fay continued. “ _I_ don’t need to get anything. _You_ don’t need to get anything. We’d be smart not to spend our money on stuff-”

“For goodness sake, Fay!” Rem snapped. “Fine!” She grabbed the girl’s arm and turned her around, heading back up to the castle.

They hadn’t set out until late anyway; the ones who were coming back early were already on their way up the path. It wasn’t much of a loss.

“Well, I don’t want you to be mad-” Fay began a bit nervously.

“It’s alright.” Rem said, taking a deep breath, then regretting it as the icy air stung her nose and chilled her lungs. “Really.”

Suddenly, the wind swept a sound up towards them. It was high-pitched and cutting, almost as much so as the sleet-laced air.

“What-” Remington started to say.

“Did you hear that?” Fay said over her.

They both turned to look back down the path. A ways back, a small cluster of figures stood, just beneath another that was floating in the air.

“What the _hell-_ ” Rem started down the path, being sure to keep her footing, Fay not far behind. They had barely gotten halfway there, though, when Harry reached them. And he didn’t look like he was stopping. “Harry!” Remington  exclaimed, wanting to ask what was happening. He darted past them, and she turned to chase after, but slipped and fell onto the wet, half-frozen cobblestones.

He looked back and shouted something about getting a teacher as Fay caught her arm and helped haul her back to her feet.

“Dammit.” Remington muttered, brushing the sleet from her jeans and glancing at Fay before they once again headed towards the few people just a little farther down the path, a bit more cautious this time. When they reached the other group, it became apparent that something was wrong. Very wrong.

Katie Bell, a Gryffindor in the year above Rem’s, was unresponsive to those around her, writhing and screaming on the ground. A friend of hers, Leanne, was sobbing, and she, along with Ron and Hermione, were trying to talk to Katie. To soothe her somehow.

Before Rem or Fay could ask what happened, Hagrid barged through. “Get back! Lemme see her!” Leanne made an attempt at explaining, but she was crying too much. Hagrid quickly picked Katie up and made off for the castle.

Hermione went to work trying to calm Leanne, while still getting some information from her. They all began their own return to the castle, Harry carrying the necklace that had cursed Katie, carefully wrapped in his scarf.

From what Remington could understand of Leanne’s story, which was blemished by the howling wind and the trembling that had set in on Leanne, Katie had gotten the necklace when she went to use the bathroom at the Three Broomsticks. Katie had insisted on bringing it to the castle, and refused to say who’d given it to her. And Leanne soon realized that Katie had been under the Imperius curse the whole time.

They’d almost reached the steps to the castle when McGonagall met them. “Hagrid says you six saw what happened to Katie Bell-- upstairs to my office at once, please! What’s that you’re holding, Potter?”

“It’s the thing she touched.” Harry explained.

“Good lord,” Professor McGonagall said alarmedly as she took the necklace from Harry. “No, no, Filch, they’re with me!” She added hastily as Filch started towards them, holding his Secrecy Sensor high in one hand. “Take this necklace to Professor Snape at once, but be sure not to touch it, keep it wrapped in the scarf!”

They all followed McGonagall up the stairs to her office. The sound of their feet and Leanne’s sobs were the only sound to break the otherwise silent, chilly air of the castle. The office was no warmer than the corridors on the way up, but they seated themselves near the fire and soon began to warm a bit. Leanne gave her account of what happened, then was sent to the hospital wing by McGonagall, who seemed to take pity on her.

Then she began to question them. “What happened when Katie touched the necklace?”

“She rose up in the air,” Harry said, before anyone else had the chance to speak, “And then began to scream, and collapsed. Professor, and I see Professor Dumbledore, please?”

Looking a bit surprised, McGonagall replied, “The headmaster is away until Monday, Potter.”

“Away?” Harry repeated, not seeming pleased at all.

“Yes, Potter, away!” Professor McGonagall reiterated, a bit sourly. “But anything you have to say about this horrible business can be said to me, I’m sure!”

After a deliberating pause, Harry finally said, “I think Draco Malfoy gave Katie that necklace, Professor.”

Rem’s lips parted and she stared at Harry for a moment, not unlike McGonagall, but Remington recovered first. “How could you _possibly-_ ” She hissed, though she was quickly silenced by a look from McGonagall. She was ready to defend Draco against the accusations, though, it seemed, she didn’t necessarily need to.

No matter what Harry tried to argue, McGonagall had a perfectly reasonable response. In fact, she informed them that Draco wasn’t even in Hogsmeade that day, having served detention with her for not completing his homework. Immediately after having squelched all of Harry’s arguments, McGonagall ushered them out of her office and headed to the hospital wing.

Once she was out of hearing range, Rem rounded on Harry. “Listen. I know you loathe Draco with every fiber of your being, but that doesn’t mean that he’s behind every horrible mishap.” She snapped. The rest of the group stood semi-awkwardly, waiting for them to head to the common room.

“All of the evidence is against him, Remington, can’t you see-” Harry began to insist.

“No. I _can’t_ see.” She shot at him. “I can’t see how you can be so insensitive to accuse him of something so _atrocious_.”

“Well what about all of the stuff that’s pointing at him?” Harry countered sharply.

She couldn’t deny that some of the things Harry had said, about Draco visiting Borgin and Burke’s that summer, and the conversation that entailed between him and Borgin. And what he’d said on the Hogwarts Express- “Alright.” She said, with the distinct air that she was about to strike a deal. “I’ll keep my wits about me. I’m certain it’s not nearly as awful as _you_ suspect it to be, but if I figure it out...”

Harry looked at her for a moment, “Right. Okay.”

“Now can we get to the common room? It’s bloody freezing out here.” Ron interjected.


	17. Room For Repair

It was pouring rain out. The perfect way to ruin a perfect Sunday. The castle was littered with students burning their weekend; most of her fellow sixth year Gryffindors were lounging in the common room. Remington had sat with them for a while, but had left eventually, claiming she was going to visit the kitchens (she’d learned of its location and the way to get in via Hermione letting it slip), since she’d missed breakfast from sleeping late and simply been too lazy to walk down during lunch. However, she wasn’t planning on going to the kitchens at all.

She had a slight... hunch that if she visited the seventh floor, she might come across someone.

The corridor was mainly vacant. Apparently, the seventh floor was too far from anywhere really useful for the students to care to wander. Though, there was a pair of younger girls standing on the opposite side, peering at a tapestry as if it were actually interesting. One of the girls dropped a pair of scales clumsily, which made a clashing sound that echoed down the hallway.

She wasn’t sure if she wanted to summon the Room of Requirement with the two girls there. But after a second of peering at them a bit scrutinizingly, she decided that it wasn’t like it would do any harm. Not really.

She’d thought about what she’d need to ask for when she reached the corridor, beforehand, of course, so she wouldn’t need to stand here like an idiot contemplating it.

She probably wouldn’t be able to get away with just asking for the Room of Hidden Things, and she’d heard before that the door would only appear if you were in great need of it. Eventually, she had decided what would probably be okay. _I need the perfect place to hide something._

The outline of a tall oak door started to form, and Remington’s stomach lurched slightly. She had almost been expecting the door to disallow her. So that she could make a fool of herself in front of those two underclassmen and look like she’d gone loony- standing in front of a random wall and staring at it like it was about to do a trick.

Well, the wall _did_ do a trick, and she didn’t bother to look back at the girls’ faces before she strode inside.

She could still hear the record player, somewhere. She looked around for a moment, only realizing now that she hadn’t a clue where she should go. The room was gargantuan. And it was likely very easy to get lost in. Going for the simple option-

“Draco?” She called. “You in here?” Then she dropped her voice, talking to herself, “Because if you’re not, then I feel quite the moron.”

“You should anyway, Alvers.” The response came from slightly behind her and to her left. She turned to see that he’d appeared from one of the branching paths. He was smirking slightly at her. She’d jumped just a tiny bit when he’d spoken.

“I thought I’d find you in here.” She commented.

“I thought you’d be persistent enough to come looking for me.” He shot back, then leaned against the same trunk as he had the last time they’d been in the room. “What can I do for you?” He asked, a tinge of mocking to his tone.

“You can tell me what you’re doing in here. Again.” She said.

“Ever heard the phrase ‘curiosity killed the cat?’” He arched an eyebrow at her pointedly.

“Satisfaction brought him back.” She remarked.

“Not getting enough of that, Alvers?” He inquired.

“Not from you, that’s for sure.” She replied, not at all daunted by the way his expression darkened.

He made a contemptuous sound and straightened, heading back down the path he’d come from. She wasn’t sure if she was supposed to, but she followed nonetheless.

“What could possibly be so interesting about this place that you-” She started saying after they’d walked for a couple minutes, him in the lead. She was looking around, trying to see what all of the stuff in the piles were, not paying any attention to where they were actually going. And apparently she wasn’t watching where she was going well enough, either.

He’d finally stopped, and she walked straight into his back. He lurched forward slightly, and she skidded back a couple steps as he turned to give her a light glare.

“Well don’t stop all of a sudden.” She said defensively.

“Maybe you should take more care not to run into people.” He countered, rolling his eyes and taking a couple steps over to a chaise lounge nearby, falling onto it and looking back at her.

“People aren’t the only things I have trouble with running into.” She muttered, taking a look around the sort of... clearing they were in.

The mounds had been kept back enough to have a patch of the stone floor, a little over ten feet around, visible. Two other paths branched off from the place. There was table towards the other side that hadn’t been overtaken by the mess yet, along with the chaise lounge, which looked as though an animal of some sort may have clawed the end of it, letting the stuffing overflow from the cushion.

“Really?” He prompted, looking a touch amused.

She shrugged, “Walls, pillars, chairs, bathtubs, you name it.” She said, then winced slightly. Maybe she shouldn’t have mentioned the bathtub. Who knows what he’d make of that.

He shook his head at her a bit patronizingly, then considered her for a moment, “Is that how you got-” He touched his cheekbone.

“Ah-” She began with a slightly nervous laugh, knowing he was talking about the scar a little below her left eye. “Actually, I got that from a pencil.” She said, not wanting to go into details. He already looked like he was going to start laughing. “But I did chip my tooth when I ran into a wall. I sleepwalked when I was little...”

“Did you now?” He was most certainly amused, now.

“Mhmm.” She hummed, grinning to show her teeth, pointing at one of her lateral incisors.

“Wait- it’s chipped on _both_ sides.” He said, sitting up a bit and giving her a disbelieving look.

“Yeah.” She mumbled. “That was the bathtub.” She muttered under her breath, quickly jumping away from the subject, “Thankfully my parents put up a gate in front of the stairs after they noticed me sleepwalking the first time. It could’ve been worse...”

“Any other pockmarks I should be aware of?” He asked, the way he looked at her teasing.

“I’ve got loads of scars,” She said, casting him a slightly dubious look. “I’m _not_ showing you them, though.”

He smirked at her, “You will, soon enough.”

Her eyebrows arched, “You think so, Malfoy?” She asked mockingly.

“I’m certain of it.” He was still giving her the same smug, wanton smile.

Her gaze narrowed a bit, but she rolled her eyes, crossing her arms.

“Why’d you come here?” He asked after a bit.

“Because.” She replied, glancing around at the surroundings again.

“Well now I know you’ve got something on your mind.” He remarked. “Care to share?”

“I was wondering, kind of,” She started, then bit her lip, wondering if this would upset him as much as pretty much everything else seemed to. It was all fine and dandy if they were talking about _her_ , but as soon as he became concerned, it got a bit... botched.

“Spit it out, Alvers.” He told her.

“Occlumency.” She finished, “I thought about what you said-”

“What about it?” He demanded, looking at her with narrow eyes.

She turned her gaze on him, not about to be deterred. She’d already started, she couldn’t stop now. “Why not?” She copied what he’d said when she asked him about it. “You could teach me. I know you could.”

He certainly didn’t seem very pleased by the idea. “I’m not a very good Legilimens, Remington.” He argued, “It wouldn’t train you enough to block me out.”

“Someone in this school has to-” She began, then smiled as she got a thought. “Snape. He would know, wouldn’t he?” Draco looked as though he wanted more than anything for her to stop, but he wouldn’t be able to interrupt her efficiently enough. “You could start my training, and he could-”

“I don’t want to teach you, Remington.” He said abruptly, causing a sudden silence from her. She stared at him for a moment. “It wasn’t exactly an enjoyable experience for me, but I don’t think I’d have learned any other way. I’m not going to help you.”

The thought of seeing her soul bared completely to him was something of conflicting nature. On one hand, anything he didn’t understand about her, anything, he’d see. He’d truly know her. But on the other hand, it would be beyond an intrusion of privacy. How could he see her as intriguing at all if he knew everything there was to know about her? He didn’t have the extra time to teach her Occlumency; the clock was already ticking. And what if, he saw something that he didn’t like?

Her lips parted the slightest bit, still looking at him with a mix of disappointment and surprise. Then she blinked and furrowed her brow a bit, “Why the hell not?” She demanded. “It couldn’t-”

“Why do you want to learn so damn bad?” He shot back.

“Why not?” She repeated. “With what’s coming, wouldn’t it be a good thing to know?”

He set his jaw, not at all pleased with this. “Fine.” He snapped, “But not only do you owe me, but you have to swear you won’t back out after we begin.”

She pursed her lips for a moment, giving him a derisive look. “You’ve got my word, Draco Malfoy.” She said solemnly, not without contempt.


	18. How It Begins

Somehow, she managed to leave Charms at the same time as Draco. And it just so happened that they both were headed to Transfiguration. He hadn’t talked to her the day previous about starting Occlumency, so she took it upon herself to bring it up.

“Hey you.” She greeted lightly, tapping her wand against her leg as she walked at his side, not having put it away after having to practice disillusionment charms during class.

Draco flashed her a glance. Not to be shot down, she plowed on. “So I was a bit curious as to-”

“You never give up, do you?” He remarked.

“Blind, bull-headed determination,” She said, “I’m just full of it.”

“You don’t need to point it out. A person only needs to have one conversation with you to know that.” He told her as they reached the first of many flights of stairs before they would get to the floor the Transfiguration department was on.

She wasn’t sure whether to take this offensively, but just shrugged. “So when do you wanna-”

“I don’t.” He cut across her.

She shot him a razor-edged sidelong look. “When _shall_ we-”

“Some other time, Rem. I don’t know.” He replied irritably.

“What about tonight?” She prompted.

“In a hurry?” He inquired.

“I’m just... excited.” She responded, with another shrug and a glance over her shoulder. Apparently there weren’t a whole lot of Charms students who also took Transfiguration and were headed there the same way Draco and Remington were. There were only a couple students trailing a ways behind them. “And very glad no one’s overheard this conversation. It could be taken quite... wrong.”

He smirked slightly. “As far as Blaise is concerned, we’re already sleeping together.”

“Excus- _What_?” She couldn’t decide which affronted phrase she should use.

“Just stating the facts.” He said nonchalantly.

“I hope to hell that you’ve told him we’re... _not_.” She said severely and dubiously.

“Firstly,” He began. “Would it be very Slytherin-like to deny bedding someone when the person already thinks it’s happened?” She opened her mouth to say something, looking scandalized, but he continued. “Secondly, how much trust would you put in a Slytherin to tell the truth?”

“You sure as _hell_ better tell _me_ the truth.” She mumbled.

“Your case is _entirely_ different.” He said.

“In what way?” She asked, flicking her narrowed eyes at him. The way he smirked slightly to himself told her that she wouldn’t be getting an answer from him. “Git.” She breathed.

“Have you ever been told that you have an absolutely atrocious temper?” He remarked.

“Oh, I’ve heard plenty.” She returned, “S’alright. Keeps things interesting.” She added as she pulled the door open to McGonagall’s classroom.

“ _Interesting_?” He repeated, following her into the room. “Dysfunctional, more like.” He muttered.

Being that the class wasn’t horribly large, and the only other students who’d showed up yet were a couple Ravenclaws who took seats towards the front, and a pair of Hufflepuff boys who sat more in the middle of the classroom, Rem settled herself into a spot towards the back.

Surprising her a bit, Draco actually took a seat beside her.

“Mmm,” She hummed, “Going to sit that close are you?” She inquired, her voice lower now that there were actually people within earshot. “I hope you know I’m not going to let the Occlumency go.” She caught him rolling his eyes. “I also hope you’re aware, _your_ temper is no better than mine. In fact-”

“Piss off, Rem.” He told her, making her smile smugly at the fact he’d only confirmed her statement.

“Language, Mister Malfoy.” McGonagall barked from the front of the classroom, where she stood as the rest of the class filed in.

“Yes, Professor.” Draco said, though it couldn’t have been mistaken for sincere by even the most gullible person on the planet. He seemed rather annoyed at being called out.

When he caught the look on Rem’s face, he leaned towards her, “Oh, cut the smirking, Alvers.” He hissed, only earning a laugh.

**=+=+=+=**

She twisted her wand in her hands, looking at Draco from where he stood, on the opposite side of the little clearing from her. She’d managed to bug him into meeting up in the Room of Hidden Things later that night, after classes had been let out, and now she stood, feeling a little bit of a knot in her stomach. She knew he’d see her thoughts. She was a little bit afraid of it.

He raised his wand at her, and she felt a spike of alarm. “Close your eyes.” He instructed her. He’d try to be a bit more gentle about her first attempt than Bellatrix had been for him. After that, though, mercy couldn’t be afforded if she were to really master this.

Generally, if she had a wand pointed at her and was told to close her eyes, she’d have instructed them to fuck off. But this was Draco. She had to show a tad bit of trust, and she couldn’t walk away now, it was far too late. She swallowed once, eyeing the wand apprehensively before closing her eyes obediently.

“Now, I want you to empty your mind,” He said, trying to keep his voice smooth and soft, not wanting to mess with her nerves any more than he needed to before he plunged into her thoughts. “And try to do anything you can to force me out.” He saw her take a deep breath, the tension in her body melted a fraction. “Ready?”

If her eyes had been open, he was sure she would have rolled them. “Always.” She murmured.

Almost pitying her, he cast himself into her mind. A few images from the last few minutes flew across her eyes and she honestly tried to force them back, but they wouldn’t budge. Just past the haze in her head, she could feel her nails digging into her palms from her exertion, and her teeth gritting. Finally, it lifted.

She took in a breath, fixing her eyes on him. He was looking back severely. From the ease in which he sorted through her thoughts, he believed she couldn’t have been expressing much effort. Being kind was obviously not helping either of them.

“You can do better than that.” He shot at her. “I didn’t want to overwhelm you right away, but I’m not going easy on you from here on out.”

“Easy on me? You call that easy-” She began to protest.

Suddenly flashes of random memories shot by, of the past summer, the D.A. from the previous year- the images slowed slightly at that. Then the beginning of her first year at Hogwarts drew near. She could feel the rawness of the memories even now, and she knew he could too. They were closing in on her father’s incident, and each millisecond brought on a bit more pain as it was pulled closer.

Her eyes were shut tightly, her muscles all tense. She felt herself say stop, but nothing happened. She saw her mother greeting people at the doors of a large stone building as they gave their compassionate, begrieved sentiments after seeing the deathly box of her father’s closed-casket service.

She didn’t really knew what happened, but the images ended and were replaced with blotches of black that slowly faded, she’d heard someone shout the word “stop” again, and knew it must have been herself. Her wand was aimed at Draco, having been situated in her hand already.

Draco was disarmed, his hands held out at his sides with his palms towards her, he’d been quite startled when she’d snapped out of the spell, but now his expression was composed. As much as it could be with Remington pointing her wand at him and looking exceptionally upset.

“That’s not something I’d like to relive.” She said dangerously.

“Anybody else wouldn’t have any qualms with whether you’d like to relive it or not, if they wanted to raid your mind, they damn well would.” He said, having walked over and snatched up his wand before heading back to where he’d been before.  “ _Clear your mind_.” And he hated himself for how much he sounded like Bellatrix. That hatred traveled down his arm, through the wand, and into the spell cast into Remington’s mind.

It wasn’t long before the visions of her father crashed through her vision, two pairs of reflective eyes swiveling towards her, the stench of blood drifting from the upholstery, a sharp, cutting tug of a seatbelt, a clambering creature-

Suddenly, she was firing curses, wanting nothing more than to bring the same pain on him that he brought on her, her eyesight blurry from withheld tears, her hand gripping her wand with excess force as she shot hex after hex at the boy who’d been supposedly helping her. And he blocked every one, keeping a solemn, but cool demeanor despite the outrage that she was aiming at him.

“You’re a horrible-” She paused to send another curse in his direction, “Selfish-” Another curse, “Despicable-” Yet another. “Barbaric- Loathsome- Vile- Disgusting- _Cruel-_ ” And it seemed she finally ran out of fuel, throwing her wand down at the floor and falling to her knees with it. She curled forward, hiding her face in her hands.

It’d been so long since she’d really let herself remember it. Her reoccurring dreams had never let her forget, but they’d made her build up somewhat of a tolerance. After so much leisure time, that tolerance was no more. The recollection of that night was made searingly fresh from what Draco had delved through. And she couldn’t handle it.

Draco stood, looking down at her, not really sure what he was meant to do, not really sure what sort of lines he crossed and which ones he could put himself back on the right side of. He would very much have liked to forget everything he’d seen, and he couldn’t imagine how she felt about it. Then again, he also didn’t want to have to remember the absolute hatred that had been in her eyes and her voice as she tried her damnedest to incapacitate him.

“Remington?” He inquired quietly.

“Don’t talk to me!” She snapped indignantly, not raising her face, it being damp from her eyes, which she couldn’t seem to stop from leaking. “Leave me be.” She hated that she was so weak. Gryffindors were supposed to be brave and strong, weren’t they? Well, she was neither.

Knowing better than to leave her by herself when she was like this, he walked over to where she was kneeling on the floor, curled up around herself.

He crouched down beside her, tentatively reaching out a hand to touch her shoulder. She immediately tried to swat his hand away, but he merely caught her wrist, then the other when she attempted to pry her hand from his. And despite her struggles, he managed to pull her against his chest until she relaxed into his arms, actually hugging herself to him.

And as a surprise to both of them, he let her cry into his always pristine shirt, breathing in the smell of her hair as he held her trembling frame.


	19. Amending The Aversion

Remington watched Fay and Seamus, working on Transfiguration. Since the beginning of the year, they’d been getting along a little better than they had the year before. Of course, she’d always thought their disagreements had been good-natured. But she supposed that with Dean spending his time with Ginny, and Parvati and Lavender seeming to prefer keeping to themselves more often, and her preoccupation with Draco, Seamus and Fay were left with little choice but to spend time with each other. And if that was the case, then they were forced to get along.

All thoughts of what happened between her and Seamus had passed. He no longer seemed at all begrudging. Not towards her, anyway. She was glad that that had blown over.

“What sort of human transfig-” Fay started to ask, then stopped when she realized that Remington wasn’t listening.

“Oi, Alvers.” Seamus raised his voice, causing Rem to snap her attention towards them, arching her eyebrows inquisitorially.

“Why don’t you just hunt him down instead of sitting here daydreaming about him?” Fay prompted slightly bitterly.

“I’m not-” She started to argue. She didn’t _want_ to hunt Draco down. After her breakdown the last time she was with him, she hadn’t spoken to him at all. After she’d gotten ahold of herself, she’d left the room immediately, barely able to look him in the eyes. It was a bit embarrassing to have to see him in nearly all of her classes, but she went about her business as if it wasn’t.

“We don’t need you.” Fay added.

Rem tried not to look slightly hurt by the comment. She looked between them and got to her feet from her spot on the couch, “Alright.” She said tersely, offering a thin, half-hearted smile before she left the common room.

She knew that a part of the reason Fay had been so sharp was because she’d gotten a bit hooked on what Harry had said before. She was suspicious of Draco, and since Rem was so close to him, she’d been getting suspicious of Remington, as well. It was something that came and went. It wouldn’t be long before Fay told her she didn’t intend to be quite that much of a bitch about it. And it wasn’t as if Rem had any other friends to hang around. She wasn’t about to try to argue with Fay about it, fearing that might only make it worse.

She still didn’t want to see Draco, but now Rem felt like she didn’t really have a choice. She wasn’t particularly friendly with any other students. She’d already started walking towards the Room of Requirement corridor. Maybe she’d be lucky and Draco wouldn’t be there. He couldn’t spend all of his time there, could he?

When she reached the seventh floor, she was a bit surprised to see the two younger girls there again, and her suspicions spiked when the same girl dropped her scales once again when she caught sight of Rem.

Remington gave the girls a slightly strange look, but quickly summoned the Room of Hidden Things and ducked inside.

“You’ve got a pair of stragglers out there.” Remington called as she started walking down the usual path.

“I’m aware.” Draco’s voice drifted from a little ways off.

“Awfully clumsy, that one is.” She remarked, thrusting her hands onto her hips when she reached the clearing. He was standing in the middle of it, arms crossed. “I’m assuming it’s on purpose. So why do you have a pair of girls standing outside the door, dropping scales every time someone- Oh.” She said as it came to her.

“Something _your_ lot didn’t think of.” He commented.

“It wasn’t really an issue when _we_ were here. Nobody came to this floor at the time we planned meetings, nobody knew about this place-”

“We were on to you since November.” He argued. “Took us a little while to figure it out. It wouldn’t have been much longer, even if that Edgecomb girl hadn’t-”

“You had no idea, don’t deny it.” She rolled her eyes, “You knew about where we were disappearing off to, but you wouldn’t’ve found the room. Or how to get in it.”

“You were the ones dense enough to let her in on the secret.” He countered. “A situation easily avoided if you just-”

“Oh, we weren’t punished, anyway.” She interrupted.

“Because you lied.” He said, eyes narrow.

“ _I_ didn’t lie.” She disagreed.

“You certainly didn’t tell the truth.” He shot at her.

“Of course I didn’t!” She snapped, “I’m not _that_ thick.”

He shook his head and started to turn away, but then turned back. “And why’d you come up here? I thought you were avoiding me.”

She fought to keep a blush from forming, thinking about how she’d cried. “I got kicked out of the common room.” She muttered.

His eyebrows arched, “Do tell.”

“They informed me that they didn’t need me, so I left.” She shrugged.

He gave her a look, like he knew that she was a bit more affected by the ordeal than she showed. “Well,” He said finally, throwing a couple glances about the clearing. “There isn’t anything much to do here-”

“I was thinking,” She interrupted him, letting her hands drop from her hips and rubbing one of her wrists. His attention moved back to her reluctantly. He was aware that when she talked like that, he probably wasn’t going to like what she said next. “I need you to keep teaching me.” She said slowly, looking at him with a serious expression.

“But you-” He began to protest.

“I _need_ you to, Draco.” She insisted.

“I’m not going to keep trying to help you if _you’re_ going to try to kill me when I do.” He said, “I’ve got other things to worry about.”

“You need to.” She continued quietly, “You will.”

“You’re not my mother, Remington.” He snapped, “Not that it would make much difference. I’m not about to let you have whatever you want-”

“I’m not asking you, Draco. If you refuse, then I’m going to Snape.” She told him decidedly.

“Why the hell are you being so bloody obstinate?” He demanded sharply. “You hated me after the first time-”

“I didn’t hate you.” She interjected, a bit of annoyance in her tone.

“I wouldn’t have noticed,” He mused harshly, “After all the things you called me-”

“We were both a bit unreasonable that time.” She crossed her arms irritably. “But I know what I’m dealing with now-”

“ _No_.” He persisted.

“You told me that I couldn’t back out.” She reminded him. “And I swore I wouldn’t.”

He shook his head slightly, looking supremely annoyed with her. “You are- _intolerable_.” He muttered in irritation. He ran a hand through his hair. “Fine. Alright.”

She exhaled, taking on a slightly pleased expression. “I do enjoy getting my way.” She remarked under her breath.

“Don’t get used to it, Alvers.” He countered. She just flashed a smile.


	20. Ruddy Slytherins

It was late. The younger years were all back in their dormitories, and only a few minutes remained before Remington would be chastised for not being where she belonged. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t waiting until this late to visit Snape, anyway. That way, she’d have an excuse for not staying to chat. It seemed that he was in a sourer than usual attitude with her for blatantly ignoring his warning to stay away from Draco. Anything to avoid his presence was welcome.

So since she hadn’t had the dream, she’d put off going to see Snape for about as long as she figured she could get away with. And the visit had been short and to-the-point. Though, she didn’t make it out of the dungeons as fast as she should have.

“Where are you headed, Alvers?” Came a familiar voice from one of the recesses that held classroom doors.

She ground to a stop and looked towards the door of a classroom she was sure hadn’t held students at all since she’d come to Hogwarts. At least, not students attending a class. In the shadow she could just make out Draco’s pale form, his dark attire. He was smirking at her, leaned against the doorframe.

“Where do you think, Malfoy?” She prompted. “It’s not even ten minutes to curfew-”

He arched his eyebrows and pushed the door open a bit farther.

“ _Draco-_ ” She hissed, glancing up and down the hall. “Breaking the rules _continually-_ ”

“Oh, just get in here, Alvers.” He said, rolling his eyes and turning to walk into the classroom.

Her lips parted as she stared after him, not believing he’d be so demanding, particularly over breaking the rules. And what happened to the whole avoiding spending time with her deal? Not that long ago he was trying to ignore her. She had to get up to the common room-

“This had better be good, Malfoy.” She hissed as she shut the door behind her. There wasn’t any light in the room, other than what little moonlight managed to filter through the small, dusty windows placed high on the walls. They were mostly underground still, so only about a foot of the top of the wall would be exposed to the outside.

She hadn’t heard or felt him approach her, but she could sense his hands on the door on either side of her head. “It’ll be good, alright.” He murmured, pressing his lips to her neck, right below the edge of her jaw.

“Draco, I have a _curfew_ ,” She complained quietly, though she tipped her head to the side, baring her neck to him.

“So do I,” He whispered against her skin. “But I don’t bloody care.”

“You’ve gotten awfully friendly all of a sudden.” She remarked under her breath. Then she felt his hands moving her shirt up a bit. Her heart kicked up a gear, and she reached down to pull her shirt back to where it was.

His lips moved from her neck and he rested his forearm against the door beside her head. He must have rested his forehead against his arm. He exhaled in irritation. “Why can’t-” He began, but stopped.

“What? Why can’t what?” She demanded. She was waiting for him to say something that she could call him out on.

“You’re perfectly happy to jump on me _then_ , but you don’t want me touching you _now_?” He prompted, still sounding plenty annoyed.

“It’s not...” She started to say, but didn’t know where to go next.

He shook his head slightly, “I’m never going to get anywhere with you, am I?” He muttered.

She felt a little bit offended, “And yet, not too long ago you were going on about how you _knew_ you were going to get in my pants-”

“That’s not what I meant, Rem.” He said quietly.

“Then what-”

“It’s always one step forward and two steps back.” He answered before she’d gotten her question out. “Always moving in opposite directions.”

“I’m not fighting you, Draco-” She began to say.

“Not intentionally.” He said, then quieter, “Not yet.”

“What do you mean by that?” She inquired.

“Forget it.” He said. She felt him move away.

“No,” She said, “Tell me.”

“There’s nothing to tell.” He answered. “Now could you move from the door?”

“ _You’re_ the one who dragged me in here.” She protested, glaring into the dark. She could only barely see the outline of his figure, a couple feet away.

“You’ve got a long walk and it’s almost curfew, isn’t that right?”

“And?” She prompted haughtily.

“ _Make up your mind_.” He said, his voice a bit closer than it was a moment ago. “Stay here... with me, or go up to your tower like a good little Gryffindor.”

“You’re full of innuendos tonight, aren’t you?” She prompted. “What were you doing? Waiting for me? Or just sitting in the doorway, preparing to persuade whatever innocent passerby to come into this dark classroom with you, and it just so conveniently happened to be me?”

“Word gets around quite fast when a Gryffindor decides to wander about the dungeons.” He remarked, leaning closer to whisper in her ear, “Particularly when that female Gryffindor enters the Slytherin Head of House’s office- so close to curfew.”

She shoved his chest, disgusted, “Snape is my _godfather_ and something along the lines of my father’s second cousin, _and_ a repulsively ill-tempered greaseball.”

“I’d like to add arrogant and conniving to that list.” He remarked. “Though, is the rest of the student body aware of your familial ties to Snape? No, I’d say not. And while they’ll be thinking whatever they like about you and Snape, it only leaves for us-”

“You’re starting to scare me.” Remington said jokingly.

“Oh,” He said, his lips at her ear, “I’ll have you running and screaming before long.” Something about the edge in his voice told her that he wasn’t joking. Not really.

“It’ll take quite a bit to frighten me off.” She replied quietly.

“We’ll see.”

**=+=+=+=**

“What the _hell_ was that?” Remington demanded, turning around, kneeling on the couch and glaring over the back of it. She’d been enjoying a perfectly nice break between classes, sitting in the Gryffindor common room reading a chapter from her Transfiguration book that was due next class. She had been rudely pulled from her book when something smacked her in the back of the head. It had been cold. And it had been wet.

“Lighten up!” Fay said, just before she got hit in the side of the face by a soggy snowball.

Remington busted out laughing, scrambling off the couch. She went over to one of the windows and shoved it open a little ways, scooping a bit of the half-melted snow off the ledge just outside and packing it into a lumpy, dripping sphere.

Just as she turned around, another snowball slammed into the wall just by her ear. Her eyes locked on Dean, who’d been the obvious culprit. “I’ll get you, Thomas!” She shouted, climbing back over the couch and chucking her snowball at him once she was back on solid ground. He dodged it, only to be tackled by Seamus, who smeared a snowball over his face.

Rem laughed, along with the few people who were still in the common room. Most had vacated as soon as the snowball fight broke out, but a few of the upperclassmen who had breaks that hour still hung around, hoping to get a piece of the action.

Eventually, Dean shook Seamus off and scooped some of the loose slush from the floor and tried to fling it at Seamus, but it flew everywhere, some of it hitting Lavender and Parvati, who’d been trying to avoid the crossfire.

“Ginny, control your boyfriend!” Parvati called out, shaking the wet mush from her hair. Lavender looked appalled that she’d been splattered in the face with the stuff.

“On it!” Ginny yelled back, hurling a snowball at Dean’s back, hitting him in the shoulder.

He ended up chasing her around the room, Ginny shooting joking taunts at him the whole way until Seamus grabbed her arm as she passed and allowed Dean to wrap his arms around her, nearly knocking them both over.

“Aw, how cute.” Fay remarked, from where she was sitting on the floor, slush still stuck in her hair. Then she made a gagging sound and pointed down her throat.

Remington gave another laugh, “Just wait, I’m sure you and Seamus will look a lot like that pretty soon.” She stated.

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Fay scoffed, though her face had turned red. Rem merely grinned.

“I didn’t know you were still capable of laughter, Alvers.” Seamus said, walking across the room towards them, oblivious to what she’d just told Fay.

“I was starting to wonder, myself.” She commented.

“Malfoy’s rubbing off on you.” Fay suggested.


	21. Patience Is A Virtue

She kicked her feet idly, staring up at the ceiling. Her legs were hooked over the armrest of the chaise lounge in the Room of Hidden Things.

Any time spent with Draco seemed to be spent there anymore. She could nearly always find him there, and if he wasn’t, then he always showed up after some time. Her presence didn’t seem to bother him, but the fact that she was nearly constantly trying to pry him for information about why exactly he was there all the time, well... that displeased him immensely.

She’d finished her Defence Against the Dark Arts homework the night before, but it appeared that Draco did not. He was sitting at the table across the clearing, having found a chair that was neither broken, nor covered in an unidentified substance.

He knew that she wanted to say something, likely many things, but was refraining from it. For the most part, it seemed as though she refused to talk unless he spoke first. Which was just as well, he figured. Half the time, if she said something, it only upset him. Or else was generally ignored.

And Remington was not a person who was easily ignored.

“Go on, spit it out.” He finally told her.

“You didn’t play in the match against Gryffindor last weekend.” She remarked. When he didn’t say anything, she pressed. “Why?”

“I was sick.” He replied, not looking up from his copy of _Confronting the Faceless_.

It wouldn’t have been hard to believe, considering that his already pale skin had taken on a rather less healthy pallor. The fact that he wasn’t eating was growing more obvious; signs of weight loss were starting show. Not to mention that the dark swipes beneath his eyes had, if anything, gotten worse. But she wasn’t so easily fooled.

“Right. Sick.” She repeated contemptuously, then, “How dull do you think I am, Draco?”

“Not very much so at all, really.” He responded honestly.

“Then why do you keep lying to me as if you think I’ll believe you?” She demanded.

“Because you’ll swallow the answer anyway if I don’t give you the truth.” He muttered.

She sat up abruptly, glaring at him. “Well if that’s how it’s-” She started indignantly.

“Fine, I shouldn’t have said it.” He snapped at her, finally looking up at her. She glared at him for a couple more moments before she fell back onto the chaise.  She normally wouldn’t give up so easily, but she was at a stalemate with him. If she didn’t take a bit of shit, they’d just end up entirely incensed with each other.

He went back to working on his homework. She picked at a frayed seam on the backrest of the chaise.

There was a lengthy pause before she commented again. “Slughorn’s having a Christmas party.”

“Wonderful.” Draco muttered.

“I was- kind of hoping you might want to go.” She continued, twisting her head so that she could look at him.

He turned his eyes on her for a moment, debating. “I don’t think I’ll be able to make it.” He said slowly.

Her lips parted slightly and she blinked a couple times before looking back up at the high, arched ceiling. “Oh.” Was all she said.

He dropped his quill and rubbed his eyes with a hand. He hated when she did that. Got all quiet and took on an injured air. It actually started to make him feel _guilty_. “I can try.” He said finally.

She turned her head again, just glancing at him, then looking up at the ceiling, a faint smile on her lips.

“Speaking of Christmas...” She said, “You’re going home for the break, aren’t you?” The question was stark, as if she already knew the answer, and wasn’t entirely ecstatic about it.

“I was going to stay here, actually.” He disagreed. Her eyes turned on him immediately, her expression rather brightened. It was a bit reminiscent of watching a puppy. “For most of it, anyway. I might end up forced to go home for a bit.” He glanced at her. “I don’t need to ask _you_ what _you’re_ doing for Christmas.”

“Certainly not.” She agreed. “So it looks like you’re stuck with me, Malfoy.”

“Joy.” He commented.

“How can’t you be excited? A whole three weeks spent with very few other than ourselves in the castle.” She remarked.

His eyes flicked at her. “I’d hate to think you’re alluding to something.”

She grinned at him, “I haven’t decided yet.”

He made a contemptuous sound. “You haven’t _decided_ yet?” He repeated, “And how many times have you tried to jump me?”

Her grin had faded, “How many times have _you_ tried to jump _me_?” She shot back.  “How do you know that’s what I was getting at?” She asked a bit loftily, “Maybe I was insinuating that we should build a fort in the Slytherin common room and play tag in the corridors.”

“We _both_ know that’s _not_ what you were insinuating.”

“Maybe it’s just your wishful thinking.”

His eyes narrowed on her. “Don’t act like you don’t want me in bed, Alvers.”

“So we’ve gone from being convinced I’ll sleep with you, to saying I want you.” She stated.

“Why not? It’s all true.” He saw her open her mouth to protest, but he spoke before she could say anything. “What was that you said when we were hardly a week into school?” He inquired rhetorically, “That I was _bothering_ you? Don’t go denying it, Remington.”

She scowled at the ceiling. “Why does everything come back to sex with you?” She mumbled, but the words were so quiet and poorly enunciated that Draco couldn’t understand what she said. Which was entirely on purpose. She knew that it was a totally unreasonable argument.


	22. The Reveal

There was about a week left before the students would be released for the Christmas holidays. Despite the fact that progress seemed almost nonexistent, even after more than half a dozen attempts, Remington continued to insist on Occlumency lessons. Draco, though being quite close to calling it all off, went along with her, if only to keep her occupied for the time being. Keep her preoccupied. Keep her from letting her mind focus on other things. In essence, to keep her from figuring out what he was hiding.

A few flashes, randomly. Every scene was one that shook her, from the second she thought she was about to die when she fell off the roof of her house a few years ago, to a particularly nasty thunderstorm where hail had cracked her bedroom window, but it all stopped when a flashback flew forward of a kiss, one that still seemed rather fresh.

He snapped out of her mind, a stare in her direction slowly turning into a convicting glare. Her eyes met his, her breathing still a bit off from her efforts and the discomfort of someone shifting through her bad memories. “When was that?” He demanded quietly. It wasn’t like he couldn’t tell that it was recent, the thoughts connected to that kiss were still slightly raw.

“When was what?” She asked a bit breathlessly, feigning ignorance. They both knew she knew what he was talking about.

“Don’t play stupid, Remington.” He warned her sharply. “And don’t you dare lie, either.”

“Past summer.” She answered, still not breaking eye contact.

A muscle in his jaw jumped slightly and he let his glare rest on her for a fraction of a second longer before he started to turn away from her.

So she’d decided to kiss other guys over the summer. Guys that _weren’t_ Draco. It was a bit like a slap in the face. He apparently wasn’t enough for her. He wasn’t _good enough_. Insult added to the injury of losing his father and having his home turned into a private hole for the Dark Lord, not to mention the heavily-weighted mission he’d been handed. And that wasn’t even all- she’d never been planning on telling him.

“Where are you going?” She protested, about to follow him.

“I couldn’t tell you if I wanted to.” He shot at her venomously.

“You’re supposed to be-” She nearly snatched his arm to stop him, but just as her fingers touched his shirt sleeve, he turned around, grabbing the hand that had reached for him and pinning it to the side of a wardrobe they were passing. In surprise, she’d taken a step back, against the wardrobe, looking up at him with her lips slightly parted.

“There’s things _you’re_ supposed to be, too, Remington.” He snapped under his breath.

“What are you-” She began, not believing that he could _honestly_ be so jealous. They weren’t _dating_. It wasn’t _official_. Why should he be so upset?

“I’ve told you before; I do not like other people touching my things.” He continued, “I particularly don’t like it after I thought we’d reached an understanding.”

“What sort of understanding are you talking about? I don’t remember you saying _anything-_ ” She began, indignant.

“I thought you might be clever enough to have caught on after I told you that the first time.”

“I’m not here to please _you_ , Malfoy.” She hissed.

“But you don’t have much choice.” He remarked, “You need me.”

Her eyes narrowed on him. “Don’t be so sure.” She said dangerously.

“I knew it was a bad idea to let you spend your summer with that Mudblood-”

Her free hand cracked across his cheek, leaving a fine red outline in its place. She hated that. She hated herself for actually hitting him. She hated him for bringing her to it. He’d called _Natalie_ a _Mudblood._ He may as well have insulted her just as severely. He didn’t know Natalie. He couldn’t say that about her. Her mind was spinning in a slight way that made her feel a bit nauseous.

His grip on her wrist had tightened, and he leaned closer so that his lips were at her ear. “You’ll pay for that.” He said tersely, before he released her and promptly stormed away.

She stood for a moment, watching his back for the fraction of a second before it disappeared, then turning her gaze on the pile of junk straight ahead before letting herself fall back and lean against the wardrobe.

Hell. Sometime between the end of the previous year at Hogwarts, and the start of the new one, hell had been set loose.


	23. Confrontation

She didn’t see him at breakfast the next morning, and Remington was fairly convinced he hadn’t shown up at all, which wouldn’t be a first, but the previous night’s events had made it seem far more meaningful today than it had any other day.

Fay was partially trying to ignore her. Remington’s mood had been particularly bad since she came back to the dormitory the night before. Though Rem wasn’t murderous and sharp, she was most certainly brooding. The attitude and the lack of explanation had the other girl a bit vexed, and determined to only make small talk until Rem coughed up what she was so irritated about.

The girls were a couple of the first people into the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom, sitting in the back in hopes of avoiding Snape.

Remington almost thought that Draco was going to ditch class as well as breakfast, until he showed up just a minute or so before class began, after all the other students had already seated themselves. Because of this, and likely to his displeasure, he was forced to sit not far in front of Rem. Though not once did he spare so much as a glance at her

“Miss Alvers.” Snape drawled about halfway through the lesson, causing nearly everyone to turn their heads to shoot her a look. “If you could please focus on your copy of _Confronting the Faceless_ as opposed to the back of Mister Malfoy’s head.”

Turning a furious shade of red, Rem lowered her eyes onto her book, mentally telling off all the students who shifted to peer at her, and Snape for being so... Snape. _And_ Draco for what he was now most likely thinking.

Once class was dismissed, she threw her book into her bag and strode from the room, one of the first to escape Professor Snape’s grotesque decorating job. She took up leaning against the wall outside the door.

A few of the students filed from the room, some of them casting looks her way for the small scene she caused, but she hardly paid attention.

When Draco finally left the class she shoved away from the wall and caught up to him, though he seemed intent on ignoring her presence. “Can I talk to you-” She started to ask.

“No, actually you can’t.” He responded coldly.

“Draco, don’t be-” She began.

“Piss off, Alvers.” He cut across her, “Just go away.”

“You don’t-”

“Don’t make me tell you again.” He insisted harshly.

Swallowing both the flash of hurt, and a bit of her pride, she slowed to a stop, watching him walk away. She knew where she’d be able to find him later, anyway. It wasn’t worth having a screaming match about her love life in the middle of the hallway.

**=+=+=+=**

Shortly after their last class, Remington made her way to the seventh floor.

The Room of Requirement was empty. Or so it seemed. It was quiet, all but for the sound of the broken record player, and lord knows what lurking creatures. But she headed back to where they normally spent their time. It was like weaving through a maze. Things were stacked so steeply on either side, it felt like she was walled in. She finally turned a final corner and saw him sitting on the chaise lounge. His elbows were on his knees, his head in his hands. He didn’t look up at the sound of her approach.

“Get out, Alvers.” He said, not moving.

“I need to talk to you-” She began.

“I said,” He pronounced slowly and strongly, “Get. Out.”

“Draco-”

Suddenly, he was on his feet, fists clenched at his sides as he glared at her. “I really don’t need this right now, Alvers.”

“You haven’t eaten anything all day-”

“I’m quite aware.”

“Will you stop being such an ass?” She demanded.

“You fucking slapped me, Remington!” He snapped, “What the hell do you expect?”

“You called Natalie a _Mudblood_!” She countered, “What the hell do _you_ expect?”

“You spent your summer shoving your tongue down other guys’ throats.” He shot at her indignantly.

“You don’t know anything about that!” She objected, “One guy kissed me. Just a single, meaningless kiss!”

“Whatever the hell you want to call it, Alvers.”

“Maybe if you weren’t so goddamn jealous all the time-”

“Jealous?” He mocked, “Over _you_?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” She asked, her voice edging acidity.

“Why should I be jealous over you? Obviously it’s not hard to catch _you_ by the lips.”

She looked supremely affronted, “At least I don’t make it a habit to do so.”

He cast her a cynical, malicious smile. “How would you know, Alvers? I haven’t touched another girl since I’ve touched you.”

“Bull. Shit.” She pronounced, “Pansy-”

“Pansy hardly qualifies as a girl.” He said scornfully, his eyes still on her, filled with venom. “Is that all you have?”

She set her jaw, crossing her arms.

“Pity.” He said contemptuously. “We’ve got your admittance of at least two. Who else? We’ve got plenty of Weasels to chose from; I wouldn’t put Longbottom past you-”

“Don’t you dare call me a whore, Malfoy.” She interrupted him harshly. She wanted to hit him. She wanted to cry.

“I suppose I shouldn’t.” He said wryly, tauntingly. “If you were, I’d certainly have gotten my fair share out of you-” He remarked, then added, “Or _in_ you, rather.”

“You,” She said slowly, “Are the filth of the earth.” She turned away, heading for the door, but he was on her heels.

“You started this, Alvers-”

“I’m finishing it.” She snapped, not stopping her stride.

“You don’t have that right.” He said as he grabbed her upper arm and spun her around.

She yanked out of his grip. “Can’t you just trust me?” She demanded, “Can’t you just have enough faith that I’m not going to screw things up on purpose? Or at least not try insulting me every time I do something-” Damn. She could already feel her eyes pricking slightly, but ignored it, glaring blamefully at him.

“You start throwing insults at me just as quick, Alvers.” He retorted.

“I’m sorry, alright?” She shot at him venomously, “I’m sorry all I seem to do is piss you off. If I’m so much of a goddamn pain, then why do you even-” She stopped, shaking her head fiercely. He lifted his chin slightly, his expression not giving anything away. She wasn’t entirely out of steam yet, so when he didn’t say anything within the first couple seconds she started back in, “You _know_ me, Malfoy. You know me better than anybody on this bloody planet.” She said, her tone still cold and harsh, though the tears she’d been forcing back were starting to color her voice. “And I feel like I don’t know you at all. You have to-” She stopped for a moment, remembering to think before she started spewing things out. “You have to trust me.”

“It’s kind of hard when you’ve already proved you’re not exactly _faithful_.” He commented, though there was a very noticeable lack of malice in his voice as opposed to just a couple minutes ago.

“So I messed up a couple times- I didn’t mean for that to happen.” She said, exasperation trickling into her words. “I’m not the only one-” She felt a bit childish. She wasn’t sure what was making her feel that way, but she couldn’t help it. She didn’t like it. “I’m _sorry_.” She forced it out, stressing the words, letting her voice express what she wouldn’t say. _And I can actually say it. Instead of jumping around it and giving sneaky little phrases that imply it, but don’t admit anything._

He wasn’t meeting her eyes anymore, but his demeanor hadn’t lost its disdain. “Right,” He said, turning his gaze back to her. It wasn’t the derisive I’m- _sure_ -you-are sort of ‘right’, but the well-now-that- _that’s_ -sorted-out sort of ‘right’. “I’m under the impression supper’s going to start soon.”

She just looked at him for a moment, trying to absorb the rapid changes in their conversation and mood. “I don’t know _why_ I put up with you.” She said, shaking her head lightly and turning to continue out the door. Though they both knew she wasn’t entirely serious, there was a thread of infliction in her words.


	24. Ladies And Gentlemen

“Draco’s going to wish he hadn’t passed up going to this party with you.” Fay commented quietly as she arranged Remington’s hair over her shoulders.

“No he’s not.” Rem replied softly, honestly, peering into the mirror in their dormitory. Her hair was curled for the first time in years. She never curled it; the curls never held. But Fay had used a spell to keep them in neat little corkscrews. Fay had also done her makeup, not much, as Remington wouldn’t’ve allowed it, but a bit. It all had that feeling to it; all dressed up and nowhere to go.

Fay was looking at her a bit sadly in the mirror, standing just behind her. “He won’t see me. He won’t know if he’s missed anything.” Rem continued, then turned around, pasting on a half-hearted smile. “Well, how do I look?” She asked, holding her dress out at her sides.

She was wearing a pale burgundy dress that hugged her ribs, then draped to a few inches above her knees. The sleeves fell just below her elbows. She kept trying to push the hems of the sleeves up her arms, bothered by them, but Fay just continued to pull them back where they belonged.

“You look stunning, Rem.” Fay smiled, “I hope Zabini will appreciate it.”

Remington sighed, “Do I really have to go?” She mumbled.

“After all this work?” Fay asked, feigning hurt, “Absolutely.” She held out the black heels that she’d picked out earlier.

Rem looked at them for a moment before she took them. “I’m going to look like a hooker.”

Fay made a contemptuous sound, “You’re going to look _sophisticated_.”

Remington rolled her eyes as she pulled the shoes on, now standing an inch or two taller than Fay. The other girl gave her a slightly compassionate, pitying look before she hugged Rem.

Normally, Fay wouldn’t have been that sentimental, but she felt slightly sorry for Remington. Rem had been under the impression that she’d convince Draco to come to Slughorn’s party, but when she’d asked a few days before if he’d made up his mind, he’d turned her down. A voice at the back of her head told her that it was her own fault. After he’d been so upset with her over the whole Isaac thing. She’d had to find someone else last minute, and her choices were rather scarce.

She couldn’t ask Dean, because he was going with Ginny. Seamus was out of the question. It’d be far too awkward. She wasn’t about to ask Harry, either, or Ron, particularly when he was dating Lavender Brown. She’d debated asking Neville, but had been somewhat spared when Blaise made a comment during Potions a couple days after, while they were at the ingredients cabinet. He’d inquired as to whether she’d found someone suitable to bring, apparently having been aware that Draco wasn’t going. She’d told him that she hadn’t had very much luck. He’d commented that he hadn’t found anyone _suitable_ , either. In the end, they’d agreed on going to the party together. Though, it was merely as acquaintances, considering that Remington had only spoken to him very lightly, and only during Slug Club dinners.

“Better not keep him waiting.” Fay murmured, letting go of Remington. “He’s a Slytherin who thinks he’s better than anyone else. And he’s got a temper.”

Rem rolled her eyes again. “Right,” She said, snatching her wand off her bed as she passed. “I’ll see you when I get back, Fay.” She said.

“Have fun!” Fay called as she left the room.

Blaise was leaning against the banister at the bottom of the stairs to the dungeons when she saw him. He looked just as clean-cut as always, though a bit more classy tonight. She couldn’t help but notice the way his eyes drifted over her as she came down the steps.

“Well.” She breathed when she reached the landing, standing in front of him. She felt a lot taller with her heels on, though Blaise still had a few inches on her.

“I don’t think it’d be courteous to walk in with your wand in hand, would it?” He prompted, as if he were chiding a child.

“Oh, right.” She said, pulling slightly on her collar and stowing her wand down the front of her dress. She looked back up to find Blaise staring at her with his eyebrows raised, looking about as amused as she’d ever seen him. “Well I don’t exactly have anywhere else to put it, do I?” She said, attitude slipping into her tone. He shook his head slightly at how unladylike she was behaving. “So long as you can’t _tell-_ ” She ran her hands over the front of her waist.

“You’re fine.” He said, appearing as if he’d be laughing if it’d been any boy other than Blaise. He held out his arm for her to take.

“Oh, so I get the gentlemanly side of you?” She commented, hooking onto his arm as they walked to the open door just down the corridor. The sound of talking, music, and laughter issued from the door. Red-tinted light fanned across the stone floor in front of it.

“I don’t have much choice tonight, do I?” He remarked.

“Did Draco put you up to this?” She asked rather bluntly. She knew that they were fairly friendly. And she wouldn’t put it past Draco.

“He...” Blaise began, as if searching for a proper way to respond. “May have suggested...”

“I knew it.” She mumbled as they stepped into Slughorn’s office.

It wasn’t long before Slughorn had converged on them. “Ah! Blaise, Remington. So glad to see you both here... and together!” Slughorn said in a bit of astonishment, “A Gryffindor and a Slytherin, what a surprise.”

Remington opened her mouth as if to contradict him, her cheeks turning a bit pink in embarrassment. It seemed, though, that she was saved by Blaise’s eloquence.

“Actually,” He said, “Remington’s been in somewhat of a relationship with a friend of mine for almost a year now. Unfortunately, he was unable to make it tonight...” She fought to keep her expression clear. _In a relationship?_

“Oh, now,” Slughorn said, “Playing the part of the loyal best friend, Blaise?”

“I try.” Blaise replied, a bit wryly.

She felt a bit relieved when they finally managed to shake Slughorn. “What are you playing at?” She asked under her breath, though she was smiling.

“I couldn’t possibly guess what you mean.” Blaise said, lifting a glass of mead from one of the trays that were roving about the crowd, held by elves.

“I’m not sure whether to thank you, or what.” She commented, peering at the passing tray of mead in scrutiny. She hadn’t decided if she wanted to try it or not.

“You could.” He remarked noncommittally, raising his glass to his lips.

“Well I know I _could_.” She rolled her eyes just as she heard a slight commotion off a little to her right, closer to the door.

She felt a prick of indignation when she saw that it was Draco, being dragged towards Slughorn by Filch. Her and Blaise were close enough to easily hear what was going on. She also saw Draco’s eyes land on her, taking in her appearance for a fraction of a second.

“Professor Slughorn, I discovered this boy lurking in an upstairs corridor. He claims to have been invited to your party and to have been delayed in setting out. Did you issue him with an invitation?” Filch said, just as Draco managed to get out of his grip.

But just when Draco began to open his mouth, Remington took a couple steps forward, closer to the group. “I did.” She said, loud enough for them to hear. When Slughorn turned to look at her, she added, “I’d asked Draco to come.” Harry was looking at her as though she’d unleashed rain on the proverbial parade.

“That settles it!” Slughorn said, “The boy may stay.”

It took Draco a moment to compose himself, then he smiled at Slughorn, thanking him. Slughorn waved away his thanks, saying something about knowing Draco’s grandfather.

When she’d first heard what Filch said, she thought that perhaps Draco had decided to show up late rather than not at all, but then she realized what was wrong with what Filch had said.

Once Draco had given his sucking-up to Slughorn a rest, she crossed the crowd to confront him.

“Rem,” He greeted, the slightest touch of warmth in his tone, then his gaze flicked up over Remington’s shoulder, “Blaise.” He added, a faint smirk finding its way onto his features.

She hadn’t realized that Blaise had followed her, but didn’t have the patience to pay him mind at the moment. “An _upstairs_ corridor, Draco?” She hissed.

That’s when he frowned at her. And immediately after, Snape surfaced from the crowd. “I’d like a word with you, Draco.” He said, looking cold and severe as ever. Snape’s eyes flashed in Rem’s direction only for one short moment, “Follow me, Draco.”

As they started to walk away, Snape in the lead, Draco in tow, looking resentful, Remington began to take a step to follow, but Blaise got ahold of her arm.

She turned back to look at him in partial surprise, and partially in expectation of him to let go. “Don’t.” He said, looking from her to the two retreating figures pointedly.

“But I-” She began to argue. Her godfather had just left the room to speak with the boy she was in love with. If she didn’t have to right to follow, who did?

“Trust me.” Blaise insisted.

She looked up into his eyes for a couple moments before reluctantly pulling her arm from his grip and crossing her arms, scowling at the floor.

During the exchange, she didn’t see Harry leave the room not far behind Draco and Snape.

When she saw Draco walk past the open door of Slughorn’s office a few minutes later, however, Blaise didn’t try to stop her from following. She looked at him, as though she needed his permission to leave. Though, he was sure she’d go anyway if he told her no for a second time.

“Go on.” He said, his eyes flicking to the door.

Without waiting any longer, she strode out of the room.

Once she was out of sight of the party’s crowd, just outside the door, she pulled her shoes off, taking a moment to glance down the hall, first the way Draco’d gone, then the way he’d been coming from. At the end of the corridor, she could see the dark figure of Snape, looking back at her. Their eyes locked for a moment. Hers showed proud defiance and a hint of resent before she turned and ran down the hallway, her black heels strung on a finger.

She’d have left them in the corridor, but she figured that Fay would be concerned if she came back to the dorm without any shoes.

She turned the corner at the end of the corridor, sprinting down the deserted hallway in hopes that she might be able to catch Draco before he disappeared somewhere. She could see the chunk of stone up ahead that hid the Slytherin common room. It was just sliding shut. She only barely managed to jam her hand into the crack before it sealed itself. And for a frightening moment she thought it was going to crush her hand, but then it began to retreat again, allowing her to enter.

She jogged down the little tunnel entrance into the common room. “Draco!” She called, only seeing him, halfway across the common room, once she’d reached the lip of the tunnel.

He stopped in his tracks, then turned around, “Remington?” He said, “What do you-”

Since there wasn’t anybody else in the room, she proceeded forward, breathing just a bit hard. “Blaise had a hard enough time keeping me in that room after you and Snape left, he wasn’t about to keep me when I saw you pass-” She said, a little breathlessly. She was starting to think she might be getting a bit out of shape. Otherwise, that corridor was longer than she thought...

Draco shook his head, “Why don’t you just _not follow me_?” He said, “And particularly into the Slytherin common room.” He added, gesturing around him.

“Could you really expect me-” She began.

“I’m not in the mood to argue with you, Rem.” He informed her a bit harshly.

She exhaled through her mouth in slight annoyance, then closed her eyes. When she reopened them, she turned away, more irritated than anything. “Alright. I’ll see myself out, then-” She may have made it a couple yards, but she really couldn’t have expected him to let her go.

“You were the best looking one in the room.” She heard him say quietly from behind her. “Even while I was there.”

She paused, turning slightly to look back at him, not able to keep from smiling. “Fay said that you’d regret turning me down.” She remarked.

“Maybe Fay knows what she’s talking about.” Draco responded.

“You know,” She said, “You could come back with me. The party won’t end for a while longer-”

“I really shouldn’t.” He replied. She could almost swear she heard the regret in his voice. “Not after-”

“I can fend Snape off, if you like.” She offered, a bit hopefully.

“Snape’s not the only one I’m worried about.” He said softly. He opened his mouth as if to say something else, but thought better and shut it.

“What did he have to say?” She asked quietly after a moment.

“Nothing important.” Draco responded. _Liar_. “Are you going back to Slughorn’s-”

“No,” She said, rubbing her arm, pushing her sleeve up farther than it was supposed to be, but she didn’t care. “I’m just going to go to the tower.”

“Shame.” He murmured. He’d taken a few steps forward and now stood in front of her.

He pulled her closer, pressing his lips to hers. She melted into the kiss, her hands moving over his shoulders, his neck, through his hair-

“Do you have your wand down your dress?” He breathed after a couple moments, not entirely believing how imprudent she could be.

It was only a statement for how close they were pressed together, that he could feel that through her dress. “Do you have a better idea for where I should keep it?” She shot back under her breath.

But his mouth was on hers before he could respond.

It was only a few moments later before a voice drifted from near the entrance to the room. “I knew I should’ve waited longer.”

Remington jumped away from Draco, but he still had a grip on her waist and pulled her back against him. Her eyes landed on Blaise, leaning against the wall to the tunnel. She could feel her face burning.

“Blaise.” Draco said. She heard the smirk in his voice.

“So long as _you two_ weren’t planning on going to the dorm, that’s where I’m heading.” The other boy remarked, moving across the room. “By the way,” He added, just before ascending a set of stairs, “You’re welcome, Alvers.”

She looked after him for a moment, at loss for what to say. “What did he mean?” Draco asked quietly in her ear.

“I didn’t thank him for going with me to Slughorn’s party.” She replied. She couldn’t help but think that Blaise hardly seemed that bad. Haughty and with an elevated self-opinion, perhaps, but she could get along with him. If she could manage to fall for someone like Draco, why shouldn’t she be able to befriend someone like Blaise?

He pressed his lips to the side of her face. “Goodnight.” She felt him move away from her and turned slightly to look at him.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” She said, seeing him flash an almost-smile before she turned to leave.


	25. Advances

She’d been a bit put-out, but not at all surprised that he seemed to have all intentions of spending his free time in the Room of Hidden Things, even over Christmas break. Having nothing else to do and no one else to be with, being that there were only a little over a dozen students staying over break, and she was familiar with none of them; she spent the first couple days wandering about the room while he lingered in the clearing. The room was quite extensive, and there was something interesting, if not entirely strange, at every turn.

“Don’t you think it’s been a long enough day?” She said the second night, going by a clock that she’d found and set to what she thought was pretty close to the proper time, it was nearing midnight.

He looked up at her from the book he’d been flipping through. She knew that it was not a school book, but she hadn’t gotten a close enough look to see what its contents were. She raised her eyebrows from her seat on the chaise. “Draco?” She prompted.

“ _You_ can go whenever you like.” He informed her, turning his eyes back on the book.

“And leave you in here, knowing you’ll probably spend the greater part of the night in this place?” She inquired, getting to her feet. “I don’t think so. Particularly when I know you’ve only eaten once today.”

“ _Remingt-_ ” He began to say irritably.

“Come on. I missed dinner too. And I know how to get into the kitchens.” She jerked her chin towards the door.

Reluctantly, he shut the book and slid it towards the center of the table before getting up. She had a feeling that he wouldn’t have given in so easily, but for the fact that he was either more hungry, or more exhausted, or possibly both, than he wanted to let on.

The walk to the basement was rather silent, being that no matter the fact that it was the holidays, they were still out past curfew. When they reached the portrait of the bowl of fruit, Remington reached out towards the pear, which then turned itself into a green door knob, allowing her to swing the portrait open. She glanced back to make sure that Draco was following her.

Once they’d procured a couple of sandwiches from a passing elf, and sat to eat in the entryway of the kitchens, out of the middle of the hustle and bustle, they slipped back out of the portrait.

“I’ll walk you to the tower, if you like.” He offered quietly.

“No,” She said, “Because that’ll just give you an excuse to go back to the Room of Hidden Things.” She started walking down the corridor, “Follow me.”

She could tell that his silence as he followed her was an annoyed one. But she just kept a confident stride as she made her way to the entrance to the Slytherin Common Room. She felt a bit jittery inside as she tried to decide just what she was going to do when they got there, but she’d thought it out. She just needed to use a bit of the bull-headed courage that Gryffindors were meant to have.

Once they reached the section of the stone wall, she stopped and looked expectantly at him. He looked back at her for a moment. “You’re not expecting to come with me...” He said, though it sounded a bit like a question.

“Your dormitory is empty.” She remarked, shrugging, “Nobody will miss me.”

“In short, you want to sleep with me.” He reiterated.

“You’re correct in the literal sense.” She said, resting a hand on her hip. “Not the figurative one. Well, as far as what I’ve got in mind, anyway.”

He rolled his eyes, “Why don’t you just go where you belong, Alvers.” He muttered.

“What? You don’t want me in your bed?” She inquired, arching her eyebrows. Then she shook her head lightly. “Listen, I’m not out for sex. I just know that _you’re_ not getting enough sleep and you’re not doing anything to help it.”

“You’re starting to sound like my mother.” He said irritably.

“I’m pretty sure your mother wouldn’t want to climb in bed with you.” Rem said, then gestured to the entrance to the common room. “Password?”

He flashed her a final, scathing look before turning to the wall, “Veritaserum.” He pronounced, and the stone began to slide away from the entrance, allowing them both into the common room. She followed him wordlessly, across the common room, up the steps to the far left...

She was a bit surprised when she walked through the door. The room wasn’t nearly as much of a mess as her own was. Even after the girls of her dorm had left, they’d left behind an assorted collection of things they wouldn’t need over break. The Slytherin boys dormitory was slightly untidy, but generally neat looking.

“Third on the right-” He started to say.

She took a running leap onto the bed on the end of the row to the right, spinning as she jumped so that she landed sprawled on her back, though slightly crooked. She pulled herself up to tug her shoes off, then sat with her legs crossed, Indian style, and turned her eyes on him.

He had his eyebrows arched in amusement. “Our beds better than yours, or what, Alvers?” He prompted.

“Well,” She said, looking down at the bed coverings and running her hand over the surface. It was like a mix of velvet and satin. A very rich feeling material. It was emerald green, and embroidered with curling designs of silver thread. “Not a lot.” She said finally, and glanced up at him, though she quickly turned her gaze back on the bedspread when she saw that he was undoing his pants.

“Shy, are you?” He remarked when he noticed the reddish shade of her face.

She scowled at the stitch of silver that she was picking at, refusing to respond.

“You really haven’t done _anything_ , have you?” He inquired, pulling back the covers from where they were tucked up by the pillow. He’d changed into lighter material lounge pants, still dark in color. He was also wearing a long-sleeved shirt, which she found a little strange. Sure, it was the middle of winter, but the common room was reasonably warm.

She was still fully dressed in the sweatpants and tee shirt that she’d worn all day, though she’d forgotten her sweatshirt in the Room of Hidden Things. She’d decided that her outfit was just as acceptable to sleep in as it was to spend a day bumming around.

“Have _you_?” She shot back a bit sharply, not unlike he had a time before, on a very similar subject. She refused to move, even though she was pinning down the sheets he was trying to pull back.

“I’ll take that as a no.” He said, then looked at her, “Now will you please _move_?”

She made an indignant sound and crawled farther up the bed to sit where she was out of the way. As he was about the climb onto the bed with her, she said, “Well, have you?”

He paused, giving her a slightly irritable look. “Do we have to talk about this _now_ , Remington?” He demanded.

“I just want to know.” She said, scooting over a bit to allow him more room beside her, before sliding under the covers.

He pressed his lips to her forehead before pulling the curtains around the bed shut. “Don’t worry about it.”

She glowered as her eyes adjusted to the darkness. “I’ve been told _not to worry_ about half the things that have come up lately, why can’t I get some answers already?” She complained.

 “Tomorrow.” He told her.

She looked at him for a moment, laying on his back, his eyes closed. She had an urge to touch his face. In the dark, the bruise-like marks under his eyes vanished, and even prior to sleep he looked placid. The beauty of his features was captivating.

He’d matured a lot since the previous year. He’d been attractive last year, though in a slightly more juvenile way. The last few months had been longer than that for him. Not to mention, it appeared that he’d gotten a haircut over summer.

She leaned forward to press her lips to his cheek, lingering there for a bit before settling in for sleep, daring to rest her head on his chest.


	26. Exclusive

When she woke up, she was dismayed to find that she was alone. The curtains were shut around the bed, and for a second she had thought that she was in her own dormitory, but it was hard not to remember the previous night. She’d shared a bed with Draco Malfoy. And she had his word that he’d give her some answers that day. But now, he’d disappeared.

She sat up and pulled the curtains open, blinking a bit in the dim light before swinging her legs over the side of the bed. She paused, running her hands down her face in annoyance, then combing lightly through her hair. She didn’t even know what time it was.

She looked over at the nightstand, hoping there might be a clock. It was nearing eight in the morning. Mentally, she was arguing whether she should crawl back into the bed and sleep to a time she deemed more appropriate.

That’s when she heard the door open. Her attention snapped to the blonde boy who was walking towards the bed. He was passing the end of the bed beside his own when he finally realized that Remington was glaring at him.

“You’re awake.” He commented with a small amount of surprise.

“Yeah, you asshole. Leaving me here by myself-” She snapped drowsily.

“Obviously not a morning person.” He remarked, “And to think I brought you this.” He held up a frosted pastry, wrapped in a napkin.

“Oh, whatever.” She said, reaching for the pastry. “Give it here.”

He rolled his eyes and handed her the confection. For a moment he watched her pull the napkin from it, knowing she probably wouldn’t respond kindly to what he was going to say. “I’m going to head up to the seventh floor-”

She quickly swallowed the bite of pastry she’d just taken, “No you are not.” She informed him, “You’re not leaving me alone in the Slytherin dorms again.” When his eyes narrowed at her, she simply patted the bed and took another bite of the pastry.

He muttered something about women and sat at the end of the bed. “Your table manners are lacking.” He commented eventually, watching her stuff the last bit of the pastry into her mouth.

After she’d swallowed, she countered, “I don’t see any table-”

“Don’t be a smartass.”

“I don’t see _your_ ass doing any tricks.” She remarked. When he arched an eyebrow, she rolled her eyes. “Habit.” She answered.

“Habit?” He repeated. “It’s hard for me to believe that your mother would allow you to eat like that in front of her.”

She gave a wicked grin. “Exactly.”

“You give that woman hell, don’t you?” He prompted.

“Sure as it.” She said, falling onto her side across the bed. She looked at him for a moment. “Why’re you up so early?” She asked.

“Couldn’t sleep.” He replied tersely.

“You didn’t go back up to-” She began. She’d personally chew him out if he went back to the Room of Hidden Things.

“No.” He said before she could finish. She knew he was telling the truth.

“We could sleep some more now...” She started.

“I’m already dressed, I’m not going back to sleep.” He said determinedly.

“But you need it.” She argued.

“It sounds more like _you_ do.” He countered.

“Fine.” She muttered. “If you won’t sleep, then we’ll get the answers you said you’d give.”

“You’re insufferable.” He mumbled, closing his eyes and shaking his head.

“Was it only Pansy?” She asked, looking up at him.

“I didn’t sleep with Pansy-” He started to disagree.

“Then what-”

“I don’t want to get into this with you, Rem.” He said. “Really-”

“You know about me.” She argued. “I’ve only had three kisses other than yours. Isaac, Seamus, Isaac.” She held up three fingers. “Your turn.”

At her last two words, his eyebrows crept up his forehead. “I don’t think-”

“Draco.”

He was irritated by her insistence of knowing what they both knew would do her no good. “It shouldn’t matter what I’ve done before.” He said.

“You were still pretty cozy with Pansy even on the train here this year.” She snapped.

“I don’t give a damn about Pansy.” He shot back.

“And I probably will never see Isaac again, but it was still alright for you to yell at me about that?” She retorted.

“I haven’t kissed Pansy-” He began indignantly.

“How long?” She demanded. “It’s not like you can say nothing happened between you two last year.”

“At the beginning of the year, sure.” He said venomously, “But not after that Quidditch match-”

“And you expect me to believe-”

“Go and ask Nott yourself,” He interrupted her, “She moved on to him when she wasn’t getting what she wanted from me.” Remington was quiet for a moment. “Satisfied?” He continued, his tone still sharp.

She was on her back, scowling up at the canopy of the bed. It was a long pause before either of them spoke again. Remington from the embarrassment of being wrong, and realizing that she not only had sounded quite jealous, but that she’d been trying to rectify her own behavior. And Draco from the fact he’d nearly admitted that she’d intrigued his attention enough to where other girls no longer interested him. Not how Remington did.

“I’d prefer you didn’t lead Pansy on anymore.” She said finally, still looking determinedly at the top of the bed.

He stared at her incredulously, “ _Lead Pansy on_?” He repeated, “You’d prefer I didn’t-” He stopped, then chose a different approach. “I’m not leading Pansy on.”

“No,” She said contemptuously, “You’re just not letting on that, possibly, you’re already spoken for.”

He looked at her, still in minor disbelief. “Am I?” He prompted, though the question held a note of arrogance.

“Either that, or Blaise lied.” She squinted slightly, her eyes upwards and away from him.

“Blaise?” He inquired, “Where is this coming from?”

“Blaise told Slughorn that we were, _‘in a relationship’_.” She said.

“And you want that to mean exclusively?” He said slowly.

She sat up, rounding on him. “If I’m not allowed to do certain things, then what the hell gives _you_ the right?”

“Fine.” He said, meeting her glare. “But you drive a hard bargain, Alvers.”

She made a derisive sound and hopped off the bed. “Just go to that damn room of yours-” She said irritably as she headed to the door.

“Will you stop getting pissed off at me?” He said as he followed her down the steps to the common room

“Stop _getting_ me pissed off at you.” She countered, “And I’m reasonably calm at the moment-”

“ _Reasonably calm_?” He repeated. “You don’t think I know you well enough yet, Remington? I say one thing wrong any you’re ready to slaughter me-”

“Then don’t say _one thing wrong_.” She reasoned, stopping just before the entrance to the common room, in the dark of the tunnel.

“With you, it’s hard not to.” He said, a lot closer behind her than she thought he was. He gently pushed her shoulders. Not expecting it, she stumbled back a step, her heel hitting the stone wall before her back pressed against it. His hands found her hips, and his lips likewise found hers. Her arms wrapped around his neck as he kissed her.

“You’re obviously feeling daring.” She breathed when she got the chance.

“Do you know how low those pants ride on your hips?” He returned, causing her face to turn a few shades brighter. “I’ve seen the dreams you’ve had about me, Alvers.” He added under his breath.

Blushing fiercely, she started to pull her arms back. Not that it would do her any good when she was pinned to the wall.

“You’re so modest.” He said, his tone bordering mocking.

“One of us has to be.” She countered.

“The meek may inherit the earth, love,” He said, “But right now, it belongs to the conceited.” (Mortal Instruments reference!)

“You certainly belong in that group.” She remarked.

He gave a quiet laugh, pushing off the wall and away from her to leave the common room.


	27. Roses And Thorns, They Say

“Why do you like spending so much time in that room, anyway?” She asked, sitting on his bed with her legs folded beneath her, examining her nails as he pulled off his shoes. It was late- just as late as the previous night had been before she’d bugged him into going back to his dorm.

“ _Because_.”

“It’s not like you do much other than homework, or read-” She started, “What were you reading? Is it any good?”

“Why are you always more talkative at night?” He countered.

“I’m nocturnal.” She answered. “Until I pass out, anyway.” She said, “Now, why-”

“Enough with the questions, Rem.” He complained.

“You said I’d get answers today.” She argued, looking up at him, relieved that he was still fully dressed.

He rested his hands on either side of her legs and leaned on them. “You got some answers already.”

“Not everything-” She started to argue.

“Did I ever say I’d give you _all_ the answers?” He prompted, leaning forward just a bit more to press his lips against hers.

Impulsively, she moved closer to him, straightening up on her knees so she could pull herself flush against him. She started working at the buttons on his shirt, but it seemed to be a lot more difficult than she imagined, pressed so close to him, her nerves racking up the tension in her body.

She wasn’t about to deny that she wanted Draco. Anyone with half a brain could guess that much. The only problem was, she’d always been a bit afraid. Particularly when it came to someone like Draco. But now she had a few ground rules to go by; they _were_ a couple. And there wouldn’t be many more opportunities like this one...

She was sure she’d get made fun of for fumbling so much, but she broke the kiss for a second, turning her head down to undo the last couple buttons, but something caught her eye.

His hand was hooked on her waist; she could just see something that stood out an alarming black against his pale skin and his white shirt.

An imperfection on his skin; dark and cloudy, what she could see of it, just on his inner forearm- His _left_ inner forearm. Suddenly Harry’s comments and suspicions of Draco’s being a Death Eater flooded in, and she scrambled back, a rush of fear and disbelief crashing over her.

Her face had gone quite pale quite fast, and her eyes had grown a couple sizes larger. She’d pulled away with so much urgency- He realized what exactly she was staring at. His sleeve hadn’t ridden up much, but it wasn’t hard to see the bottom fraction of the Mark on his arm, and he immediately yanked the hem back down, scowling at her.

“You’re not-” She began, a bit detachedly, “That’s not-”

“No, it’s not.” He concluded for her.

“Don’t lie to me, Draco!” She snapped, finally looking him in the eye. Her glare softened to something edged with pleading, “What was that?”

He shook his head slowly, his eyes not leaving hers.

Her breathing started to escalate ever so slightly, “You-” She seemed to have trouble forcing the words out. “You are, aren’t you? You’re one of them. The- the-”

“Remington.” He interrupted her severely. She moved forward again, this time trying to grab on to his arm, but he just backed away. “Stop.” He told her, his tone strong, if not harsh.

“How _could_ you-” She pronounced under her breath, with so much conviction. “Why would he-”

“ _Stop_.” He insisted, louder this time.

“ _You’re a Death Eater, Draco_.” She hissed, staring at him venomously, though there was a lacing of dismay in her eyes. The wave of fear and disbelief she’d felt before hadn’t fully dissipated. He returned the glare, but said nothing. She started to try to get up, to leave, but he stopped her, pushing her back and cornering her there.

“Listen, I didn’t have a choice-” He began.

“You-”

“Don’t interrupt me.” He said. She stood up again, trying to shove his chest, but he caught both of her wrists. “Remington-”

But she wasn’t listening. She didn’t want to listen. She yanked herself out of his grip as soon as he’d secured it, not wanting him touching her. He’d been a Death Eater this whole time. That was what had been bothering him from the beginning of the year. All of the odd events of the year, she was sure they had something to do with him. If it wasn’t for him, Katie Bell would be perfectly fine- What would Natalie think? All along she’d been trying to crawl in bed, not only with the son of a Death Eater, but a Death Eater himself.

She didn’t control her motor actions, she simply let her legs move. She was out of the door of the boys’ dormitory, moving down the stairs with an urgency that made her feel ill. The sort of off-time pace that made the world seem to work at a speed that was different from the speed of herself. The kind of feeling she had before she got sick.

She passed through the entrance to the common room, and started down the corridor. She didn’t have Snape’s office in mind, but she couldn’t stop herself when she reached the door.

She barged into the room without knocking, in a right _atrocious_ mood. He looked up at the door right away to see who’d so rudely invaded his study at such a late hour.

“You’re a damn _ass_ , you know that?” She snapped, her hands coming down on the table on the opposite side from where he was seated. Her emotions played out in the form of one she was most familiar with. Anger. And even if her anger wasn’t focused at Snape, she was too afflicted to really care much about that. “You _knew_ , didn’t you? You _knew_ he was a Death Eater.”

He was on his feet as well, leaning over the table not unlike she was. “This is not an appropriate conversation for school, Remington.” He drawled venomously.

“That’s why you told me to stay away from him. You _knew_ it was coming.” She continued, “The only reason you could-”

“I suggest you keep your thoughts to yourself and exit my office, Miss Alvers.”

“Miss Alvers, am I?” She sneered, “Why didn’t you stop it?” She demanded, “He’s only sixteen! He’s not even of age yet, and you allowed this to happen-”

“I do not have any say in what happens in the Dark Lord’s ranks.” He pronounced sharply.

So he admitted it.

“There has to be a _reason_.” She said, “You know what it is. He wouldn’t pull a schoolboy into the elite group without a damn good reason-”

“Remington-” He said warningly.

“Why does he want him?” She asked, staring at him imploringly, severely. “Why does he want Draco?”

“None of this concerns you in the slightest-”

“I deserve to know!” She insisted, shouting now.

“I demand you leave.” He ordered, letting her know that he was not only going to refuse her any information, but he did not want her there at all. There were no compromises. She was quiet for a moment, but refused to move. “If you do not comply, I will be forced to take disciplinary action.”

“I am not talking to you as my teacher!” She objected, “I’m talking to you as my godfather!”

“Believe me when I say that I am doing this for your own good.” Snape said, slowly, sternly, dangerously. “And for _Draco’s_ good, as well.” He paused, his eyes somehow both sharp and assuring. “Now, I must ask you a final time to _get out of my office_.”

She made an indignant sound and shoved away from the desk, whirling to march out the door. She wasn’t pleased, however, when she found who was waiting outside that door.

She looked at Draco for a moment once the door swung shut behind her. Her eyes were acidic and defiant, her back set straight. Then, she started to walk away.

“How does this change anything, Remington?” He hissed.

She whipped around, “How doesn’t it?” She countered venomously, “It’s awful in itself, _and_ you kept it from me.” She snapped, beginning to turn around.

“You can’t pretend that you don’t still love me.” He shot at her.

She nearly froze. How could he know? She never told him. Lord no, she hadn’t told him. Then she realized that how stupid it was of her to assume anything could be personal to her anymore. Any feeling, memory, thought, it was all visible to Draco. Those damned Occlumency lessons made certain of that.

“Well at this moment,” She said, “I don’t want to _look_ at you.” And she didn’t turn back around, all the way up to Gryffindor Tower. When she’d reached the steps out of the dungeon, however, she could hear what sounded like a fist colliding with the stone wall.

**=+=+=+=**

 “Baubles.” Remington snapped sharply at the Fat Lady, who was sound asleep in her portrait.

She awoke with a start, squinting at Rem. “Now, those aren’t any manners to-”

“I don’t _care_ about my manners.” Remington said, “Let me in.”

“I didn’t hear the password-” The Fat Lady chimed, as if chiding a little kid.

“Baubles!” Rem shot at her. With a disapproving scowl, the portrait swung open and Remington scrambled inside.

She ran up the steps to her dormitory and slammed the door behind her. The only other Gryffindors she’d seen around were a pair of second year boys. She didn’t think she had to worry about waking them.

She had the urge to pick something up and throw it, or to kick something, or hit something, but she restrained herself and instead took to pacing furiously, up and down the path between the beds.

She needed to think. She couldn’t be irrational. She had to think. Everyone was telling her to keep her nose out of it, but when had she ever been good at that? Draco was a Death Eater. Harry had been right all along. She should have listened-

She wouldn’t tell Harry. She couldn’t tell anyone. Sure, she was vexed with Draco at the moment, but she couldn’t possibly bring herself to do that to him. He was right. She couldn’t pretend that she didn’t still love him. It’d been her own fault, forcing him to teach her Occlumency-

She swore loudly and grabbed the endpost of her own bed, ceasing her pacing to lean her back against it. It was too much to consider and too... horrible.

Draco was a Death Eater. And he’d been given a task. Something that was slowly killing him. He’d been looking less and less healthy all year. Not eating, not sleeping. Of course the task had to be something awful. That was the only sort of business Death Eaters got into.

The boy she loved was tied to the Dark Lord, permanently.

Where did that leave her?


	28. All Due Refinement

She pushed the door open to the Room of Hidden Things. She’d let herself cool off for a few hours, until she’d reached a stable mood. Until she knew she wouldn’t explode on Draco if she saw him.

She knew she’d find him here. It was now morning, and even if it had still been the dead of night, she was fairly certain she’d have been able to find him here, then, too.

She strode back towards the clearing, not really sure what she was going to say to him.

He was standing in the middle of the clearing, facing her, obviously having known she was coming. She wanted to ask him what he was doing in this room all the time, but knew that she’d know eventually. She’d already figured half of it out.

He was looking at her, expecting her to say something, but she just shrugged and slid her hands into the pockets of her jeans.

After a pause, he spoke, “You can’t tell anyone.”

“I already _knew_ that.” She said, eyeing him, “But I hope you’re aware that Harry knows, too.”

Draco’s eyes narrowed, “Potter doesn’t-”

“He’s convinced as hell, and won’t listen to anyone trying to tell him otherwise.” She interrupted him. “Guess I should have listened to him when he tried to argue with me about it after Katie’s accident.”

He winced the slightest bit at the mention, glaring at her slightly.

“It doesn’t make a lot of sense to me.” She said, taking a couple steps farther into the clearing. “I know you were involved in that. But I don’t understand how- when you were still in the castle when it happened.”

“Maybe I wasn’t involved.” He remarked, “Consider that?”

“I believed it for a long time.” She said, narrowing her eyes dubiously, “I also believed that you couldn’t possibly be a Death Eater.”

“Don’t even _start_ the guilt trip, Remington.” He snapped, “I didn’t have any choice.”

“Don’t _tell_ me that you didn’t feel even the slightest bit of satisfaction when you got that goddamn _atrocity_ burned onto your arm.” She flashed. “I _know_ you Draco.”

“I’m not feeling very satisfied about it now, am I?” He shot back.

“Now-” She started. “ _Now_ doesn’t matter.” She said, “It’s done. You can’t- That’s a life sentence, Draco.”

“I didn’t catch that at all,” He said, his voice dripping in bitter sarcasm. “When he made me swear loyalty to the moment of my death.”

Her hands clenched into fists, staring at him. The gravity of the situation seemed to increase with that statement. Loyalty. Death.

“And don’t you _dare_ start crying.” He told her harshly, pointing a finger at her. “You don’t have any right.”

He may have caught the glint in her eye at the impact his previous words had had, but she wasn’t about to start crying. She couldn’t afford so much weakness any more. “How don’t I?” She countered, “Why do I keep getting told that I don’t have a right to know things, or _do_ things-”

“Because you’re not involved in this.” He said, “You shouldn’t’ve ever gotten yourself-”

“You said it yourself, Draco!” She snapped, “I. Love. You. I’m not going to sit back and watch when you’re-” She broke off suddenly, scowling and crossing her arms. “It’s killing me to see you so... _defeated_.”

He stared at her for a moment. She tried to ignore the fact she’d openly admitted she was in love with him. “The best way you can help,” He said slowly, “Is by staying out of it.”

She made a sound of frustration and ran her hands through her hair, turning to leave, but she merely ended up turning fully around to face him again. “I hate you, you know that?” She said, “I can’t _stand_ you.”

“You’ve been doing a pretty good job of putting up with it.” He remarked, not seeming daunted at all by her words.

“Only because I don’t have a choice.” She responded quietly.

“I know how that feels.” He commented, meeting her eyes.

She didn’t know if he was referring to the Death Eater situation, or something entirely different. She couldn’t help but think that it might mean he had the same sort of feelings for her. Fat chance.


	29. Short On Words

Her fingertip drew lazy circles against his arm, which was wrapped around her waist. Their bodies followed each other’s contours, separated, of course, by clothing. Her eyes drifted over his face, not believing it to be at all fair that a single person could be so _attractive_. Not believing that she was the one who got to sleep in his arms. . . . Not believing what he could be involved in.

While Remington had been awake for upwards of fifteen minutes, Draco was still sound asleep. And she was in no rush to wake him up. Partially because she knew he needed all the sleep he could get. Partially because it gave her the chance to shamelessly admire him. And it was the first chance she’d gotten; he’d awoken before her every other morning. It was just in time, too- students were to start arriving that day. It was the last night Rem knew she’d be allowed to stay in his dorm.

She’d spent every night with him, with the exception of Christmas Eve and Christmas night, when he went home for the sake of his mother. And of course the night that she saw the Dark Mark.

Since that incident, speaking had been minimal. The tense edge that had been building between them all year seemed to have reached its climax. Mostly, this was due to Remington blaming him for not owning up to it sooner. She may have been willing to curl up with him in bed, but she wasn’t going to let him think that everything was hunky-dory.

She could feel his breathing starting to change, becoming deeper, and knew he’d be waking up soon. She immediately ceased tracing nonsensical shapes on his skin, shifting in his arms, which only helped speed up the process of his waking up. His grip on her tightened the slightest bit before he released her, finally pulled out of his sleep.

Rem sat up and scooted to the edge of the bed as he stretched and rubbed his eyes. “Leaving so soon?”

“I’m going to make sure I don’t leave anything of mine around here, and get back to Gryffindor Tower before any of your dorm-mates show up and find us in bed together.”

“You’re still upset.” He mumbled as she yanked the curtains aside and slid off the bed.

“You’re still a Death Eater.” She mumbled under her breath, though he caught her words.

The darkness of the Mark was easy to see against his pale skin, even in the dim light. The skull had a disgusting grin, as if it were mocking him. He shoved the curtains on his side of the bed open to see her leaning against Blaise’s bed, re-tying one of her sneakers.

His eyes were narrow on her, adjusting to the light. “It’s not going to go away over night.”

Her eyebrows arched as she drew her laces tight. “As if I didn’t know this perfectly-” She dropped her foot heavily and crossed her arms.

“Remington.”

She made a sound of irritation and ran her hands over her face, letting the heels of her palms rest over her eyes. “What do you want, Draco?”

“I want you to realize that it’s completely useless to hold grudges. You being angry isn’t going to change anything. It’s only going to make things harder.”

She let her hands move from her face, falling against her legs. “It’s too early for this, Draco.”

“I’m sick of you acting like you’re trying to set something straight.”

“I don’t _care_ right now. Haven’t been up for fifteen minutes and we’re-”

“Knock off the attitude and it wouldn’t be that way.”

“I don’t _want_ to fight with you.” She said, though her tone was a bit harsher than she intended.

“You do an awful good job of it anyway.” He remarked.

She supposed that it wasn’t fair of her to treat him with such an edge and expect him to not retaliate. Much unlike when he’d been giving her similar treatment and she’d put up with it- bits and pieces, anyway.

“Why do _I_ always have to give a little?” She demanded, “No matter what _you_ do, I’m expected to forgive you and act like it’s alright-”

“Need I remind you of everything that happened last year-” He interrupted her, giving her a look as though she were a child arguing in favor of something totally unreasonable.

“But nothing I did was really all that horrible- You only saw it that way because you part of the goddamn Inquisitorial Squad-” She began indignantly.

“Don’t you realize the situation you put yourself in at the Ministry-” By now he was standing up, only a couple feet away from her because she’d taken a couple steps in his direction as well.

“I’m not permanently branded for it!” In frustration, she stepped around him and grabbed her wand off the bedside table, starting to pass him to leave, but he caught her arm.

She turned to face him, and expectant look on her face. All he said, though, was, “Rem.” His voice was gentle. It conveyed more than just the single syllable, but that he didn’t want her walking out of the door in a bad mood. But there just didn’t seem to be much more to say.

She met his eyes for a moment, suddenly quite aware of the space between them -- or the lack of it, rather -- and the fact that he was shirtless. “You should get a shirt on before someone walks in and sees the Mark.” She informed him quietly. He pursed his lips and let her go.

She turned and headed for the door, slipping outside quietly. She was halfway across the common room when someone appeared from the shadows beneath the entrance tunnel. Her step faltered slightly as her eyes landed on Blaise.

When he noticed her, he didn’t say anything, but merely gave her an artful smile as they passed each other, her on the way out, him on the way to the dorms.


	30. Had To Be Something To Do With You

She shoved open the door, shutting it behind her as silently as she could. It’d been a bit of tip-off when a small first year had entered the boy’s bathroom, and immediately ran back out, retreating down the hall with considerable haste. Of course the scene would have her on alert as she passed the door. She’d only stopped when she heard Draco’s voice on the other side, along with a female one as well.

He was standing at one of the sinks, a hand gripping either side of it, head bent. In the mirror she could see that his eyes were closed. She started to cross the room when she finally saw the transparent girl sitting on the edge of the sink beside him.

“This is the boy’s lavatory. You don’t belong here.” Myrtle told her in her high voice, causing Draco to lift his head, his eyes flashing open to settle on Remington.

“You’re one to talk.” Rem snapped. “Why don’t you go back to your own bathroom?”

“Draco-” Myrtle whined.

“Go on.” Remington continued sharply, glaring at the ghost girl. When she didn’t move, Rem snatched a small chip that must have fallen from the wall or ceiling, off the floor as she walked and chucked it at Myrtle. Just before it would’ve sailed through her, Myrtle screeched and flew into the air, streaking towards the row of toilet cubicles and dropping into them with a loud splash. The rock Remington had thrown had hit the mirror beside the one Draco was reflected in, shattering it in its frame, though the glass didn’t fall.

Draco looked at the broken mirror for a moment before turning his eyes on her reflection in the mirror in front of him. She’d stopped in the middle of the room, halfway between him and the door.

“Pissy, are you?” He inquired, sounding like he wasn’t in a very good mood, either.

“So while you haven’t been telling me what’s wrong, you’ve been seeking comfort from a dead girl.” Rem said, arms crossed.

“I _couldn’t_ tell you, Remingt-” He began to say, turning around to face her.

“ _Bull. Shit._ You couldn’t tell me!” She exclaimed.

“You don’t understand.” He muttered.

“I could, if you would _tell_ me!” She insisted.

He pushed away from the sinks and took a couple threatening steps in her direction, but she held her ground. “You couldn’t possibly.” He lashed at her, “I was ready to do everything in my power to keep you from figuring it out. If it hadn’t been for goddamn Potter, I might have succeeded. If it hadn’t been for you and that- _maddening_ way your breath skips every time I get too close, I might have succeeded. I just needed to stay inconspicuous, I just needed to stay far enough away from you that you wouldn’t _see_.”

“That’s why you wouldn’t touch me-”

“When we first came back to school?” He finished for her. “As much as I hated it, I thought you might assume it meant I didn’t want you anymore. But instead, you just decided to pursue me with that much more determination. What the hell was I supposed to do, Rem?” He demanded.

“You _could’ve_ told me right away-”

He took those couple steps backwards again, leaning against the sink, staring at her like some complicated Potion that just wasn’t working out quite right. “You don’t understand. I couldn’t tell you. The last thing I wanted was for you to know.”

“W- _why_?” She asked, giving him a disbelieving look, “You couldn’t’ve thought I was going to tell-”

Frustrated, he shook his head. His eyes were sharp on her, “Do you have any idea what they’d do if they realized that you know?” He hissed, “You’d be dead, Rem.” He exhaled, leaning farther back against the sink, his gaze moving to the stained glass windows on the end of the room. “I can’t imagine-” He broke off, his eyes looking towards the windows, but not focused anywhere in the room.

Remington hesitantly let her arms drop. “You were trying to protect me by not saying anything?” She asked slowly.

“That’s why I didn’t want you to know.” He replied, his attention still off somewhere by the stained glass. “If you were in danger- If it was _my_ fault-”

“They’d never know, Draco. I wouldn’t tell anyone-”

“They don’t need to be told in order to know, Rem.” He said irritably. “I thought, maybe with the Occlumency-” He shook his head, his eyes flicking at her, showing agitation and annoyance. “But your mind is so _weak_.”

She opened her mouth to object, but he cut across her.

“Though, I shouldn’t be saying much.” He remarked, making a derisive noise. “After a few minutes of running my hands over you, I’d completely forgotten about the damn thing on my arm and wanted nothing more than to remove all of your clothes.” His eyes drifted down her body in a savoring, predatory way that made her insides tingle. He tipped his head to the side slightly as his gaze travelled back up to her eyes, “Not that _that_ appetite ever really goes away.”

“You really do scare me sometimes, you know?” She said quietly.

“Of all things- the fact that I _want_ you scares you?” He prompted, clearly not believing her.

“No.” She said, “It’s something else.” _The fact that I know I don’t have the willpower to refuse you. That could be a big part of it._

“You have so many reasons-”

“I have reasons up to _here-_ ” She gestured at a height near her ear, “For nearly everything. I don’t need to be reminded.”

His eyes narrowed on her. “You could make this a lot easier for the both of us.”

“You’re not helping _me_ much.” She said softly, though there was a cutting edge in her voice.

“Tell me what you want me to do.” He said, “I don’t understand what it is you want-”

“What do you think I want?” She said sharply. “I want the truth- I want to be able to trust you. I want- some sort of-” She began a bit feverishly, then broke off. “God, I just want this to _go away_.”

“You could be with any other guy in this school and not have to worry about any of this.” He said calmly, his eyes on her beaten maroon sneakers.

“It doesn’t matter.” For a moment, neither moved and there was a fraction of a second of silence before she turned to leave. She shouldn’t be in there if someone came in to actually use the lavatory.

“I don’t want you to leave if you’re still upset.”

She looked back at him, “Then I’m free to go?”


	31. Slowly Understanding

Remington ran up the stairs to the seventh floor, dodging around students who were heading to their respective classes. She finally understood. It finally made sense.

It all had come together when she overheard the conversation between a couple Hufflepuffs in D.A.D.A. They’d been talking about what chance they had if the Death Eaters went after them. One had mentioned that Vanishing Cabinets had been used before, that people would just step inside, close the door and show up in the Cabinet’s sister. The other had scoffed and said that most of them were broken anyway, and hardly anybody really knew how to fix them.

Some time ago, when Remington had gone to the Room of Hidden Things, she’d arrived at the clearing to see Draco throwing a cover over a large object that had always been just on the edge of one of the piles. Another time, when he hadn’t been around, she’d pulled the cloth covering it down to find that it was a large box. She did indeed recognize it as a Vanishing Cabinet, and had thought nothing of it at the time.

But now she knew that the Cabinet was immensely important. All year, Draco had been visiting the Room of Requirement to fix the Vanishing Cabinet. And it hadn’t been going smoothly. The reason he hadn’t told her about it- was because it had something to do with him being a Death Eater. It had something to do with why he became one. He needed the Cabinet to work for some reason.

He’d visited Borgin and Burke’s that summer because that’s where the sister of this Cabinet was kept. And he needed Borgin to tell him how to fix the one in the school.

There was either something he needed to get out of the school, or something he needed to get into the school. Most likely the latter. But _what_? And _why_?

She wrenched the door to the Room of Hidden Things open once it’d appeared, slipping inside and heading directly for the clearing. She grabbed ahold of the sheet of fabric that was thrown over the Cabinet, yanking it back and stepping away, looking at the thing with a new light. Hating it all the more.

**=+=+=+=**

He’d been a bit concerned when she hadn’t shown up for Potions. As soon as Slughorn released them, he’d headed up to the Room of Hidden Things, knowing that if it had something to do with him, or if it was something she planned on telling him, that was where he would find her.

When the clearing came into sight, the first thing he saw was the Vanishing Cabinet, gleaming almost defiantly at him. The cover was drug halfway to the chaise lounge, where Remington sat, her head in her hands, bent over with her elbows on her knees. Her robe was unbuttoned and had fallen from her shoulders, bunching towards her elbows, exposing the white shirt and jumper beneath.

“Remington-” He began cautiously, hoping to god that she hadn’t been crying.

She jumped when he spoke, looking up at him. At least she didn’t show any signs of tears. “Can you tell me now?” She asked, her eyes seemed to glint almost as much as the Cabinet, if not more. Her gaze was more intent than it had been in a long time.

He started to shake his head slowly, his eyes not leaving hers as he walked towards where the cloth was lying on the ground.

“I know.” She said, standing up. He paused, giving her a sharp look. “I know about your little trip to Borgin and Burke’s. I know about what you said when Harry was hiding in the luggage rack of your compartment. I know that you’ve been trying to mend this Vanishing Cabinet. I know that it’s a part of the task that he gave you. I know you’re trying to kill someone. It was obvious after the necklace-” She was still looking at him with those same cutting eyes.

He met her glare, holding the sheet he’d used to cover the Cabinet, fingering the dark fabric. He turned his gaze down to his hands. There was a pause before he spoke. There wasn’t much to say. “He’ll kill me, Rem.” He said quietly. He couldn’t possibly waste the effort on raising his volume to a conversational level, not when he was trying so hard to keep his voice even. It was his own life he was talking about. “If I don’t manage- he’ll kill me.”

She stared at him. She could have already guessed what he told her, and now she was starting to realize how afraid he really was. The signs had always been obvious, though. She’d just never really recognized what they meant. Lack of sleep, not eating. And now she understood why what had happened to Katie had happened. He had doubted his ability to fix the Cabinet, and fearing what would happen if he failed, he tried a different angle. One that obviously backfired.

“You’re not going to die.” She told him, not really having thought about the words before they came out of her mouth.

The look he gave her was very reminiscent of the one her mother used to give her when she was little and said something utterly naïve. “You can say whatever you like, Rem.” He said, “But it’s not going to change the facts. If I can’t fix the Cabinet-”

“No.” She interrupted. “We’ll-”

“ _We_?” He cut across her, “What will _we_ do, exactly? You’re not getting involved in this, Rem.”

“Don’t even start with that.” She said, her eyes slightly narrow on him. “It’s too late to say I’m not going to be involved. I already am.” He shook his head lightly, glaring at her. She arched her eyebrows. “Don’t tell me you didn’t see this coming.” She said almost mockingly.


	32. Give-Take

Fay had begun to realize that something was up. In fact, anyone that Rem normally hung around had noticed that she simply wasn’t _around_ anymore. They were also aware that she’d been acting different, but nothing had been said yet.

Draco’s grades had started to improve. Where he used to only do school work when Remington was in the Room of Hidden Things with him, not able to work on the Cabinet because she didn’t know about it at the time, now his time was devoted entirely to the task. Rem had taken it upon herself to do his homework while she was in the Room with him, which was nearly all the time. The handwriting she forged as his was a little off, but it wasn’t long before the swipe of the quill became almost as familiar to her as her own. The finished result wouldn’t be noticed by their teachers, with the possible exception of Snape, but he wouldn’t punish Draco either way.

On the other hand, Remington’s grades had dipped, not because she didn’t have the time to do her work, but rather that she no longer cared. This fact hadn’t escaped Draco’s attention.

One day he noticed her working on an essay for Transfiguration, written in a script remarkably similar to his own. “Rem,” He said, to catch her attention.

“Hm?” She hummed back, finishing a sentence before turning her eyes on him.

“Work on your own.” He told her, “Yours is more important than mine. You’ve got plans for when you get out of this hellhole, I don’t.”

She shook her head gently, turning back to the parchment. “That doesn’t mean much.” She murmured.

“What do you mean?” He prompted, “You know how hard it is to get into the Auror programs-”

“I’m not going to try.” She said quietly, as if she could avoid letting him hear.

He stared at her for a moment. “What happened to all the work you did last year-” He began, volume rising.

“Things change.” She snapped, pausing from her writing. How could she be an Auror now? She’d be lying to the Ministry. She couldn’t possibly hunt Draco down. And she couldn’t possibly get away with not telling her superiors everything she knew. No, she couldn’t be an Auror.

“Remington-”

“Don’t.” She said, “I’m not going to be an Auror. And you shouldn’t want me to be.”

He’d walked over and was standing at the side of the table, his hands flat on its chipped, finished wood surface. She’d only just noticed that he was right next to her. “Why shouldn’t I?” He inquired, but he cut across her as she started to open her mouth to respond. “I know you could. I know you’d be able to get through every obstacle they threw at you. And if you want to be an Auror, not only is it not my place to stop you, but I should want anything you hope for to happen.”

She looked at him incredulously, “You can’t.” She said, “Not when you’re a Death Eater-”

“If you’d be happy-”

“You can’t believe that I would be!” She interjected, standing up. “Not if-”

He pressed his lips to hers for a second, then murmured, “Don’t worry about it.”

As he started to turn away, she grabbed his arm and pulled him back. Not having expected this, his feet fumbled a bit, and his hands landed on the table on either side of her. She took his face in both hands and pulled his mouth down to hers.

From what he’d said, she could assume that he placed her happiness high on his priority list, or at least he placed _her_ high on his priority list. And not only that, but she wasn’t going to let him get away after just one taste. Not now.

Her hands slid down to begin undoing the buttons on his shirt, her lips moving across his jaw, to his neck-

“Are you trying to seduce me?” He asked, the amusement plain in his tone.

She faltered, then pressed her hands flat against his stomach, “Patronizing, much?” She mumbled.

He pressed a kiss to her cheek. “Not right now, Rem.” He murmured, heading back towards the Cabinet.

“Who said I wanted to sleep with you, anyway?” She called after him derisively.

“You already have.” He replied, not looking back at her.

“I mean sex, smartass.” She countered.

“I don’t see your ass doing any tricks.” He shot back, using her own line.

“Been watching, have you?”

“When haven’t I?”

She scowled at him as he threw a broken doorknob into the Cabinet and swung the door shut. “If you love that thing so much, why don’t you just marry it?” She remarked.

“I have better options.” He responded.

“Oh _really_?” She said, a hint of condescension in her voice.

He flashed her a look, but didn’t say anything. She glared daggers at his back for a couple moments before she started to pack up her books and Draco’s homework. She knew she wouldn’t be able to work on it now.


	33. His Reasons

It seemed that she was right in believing that Snape wouldn’t convict Draco for his work not being his own, but he was entirely liable to convict _Remington_. She knew the moment that he asked her to stay behind that she was about to get chastised not only for her falling grades, but for Draco’s rising ones.

She angrily shoved her books into her bag as the class dribbled out of the room. She could feel Draco’s eyes on her, but didn’t look up at him, crossing her arms and leaning against the desk she’d been sitting at, scowling at the floor. As soon as the last student had left, Snape began, sitting behind his desk at the front of the room, his hands steepled in front of him as he gazed scrutinizingly at her.

“I’m entirely certain you know why I’ve kept you.” He drawled.

“ _Entirely_.” She retorted, not moving her eyes from glaring at a small crack in the stone floor.

“Your marks have been far from satisfactory for the last month.” He began. “Not even to mention the fact you couldn’t possibly have expected me to believe that the handwriting on Draco’s work is his own.”

“Of course I didn’t.” She replied, still bitter. “But you’re the only one who’d notice. And you wouldn’t yell at _him_ for it-”

“Unfortunately, I wouldn’t be able to. It seems that Draco suddenly becomes inconveniently busy whenever I ask to have a word with him.” Snape remarked.

“He’s _inconveniently busy_ anyway.” She said, “You realize that we’re over halfway through the year and the plan isn’t going as _planned_.”

“I don’t doubt that he will manage.” He commented, “With someone as tenacious and headstrong as yourself at his expense.”

She turned her head up, eyeing him. His statement confirmed that he was perfectly aware of how predisposed she was to Draco. She assumed that that was as close she’d ever get to a compliment from the man.

“I cannot allow you to ignore your own schoolwork, however. Your mother would be _most_ displeased-”

“I don’t see how my schoolwork can compare at all to Draco’s life being set with a deadline.” She said coldly.

“Or the fact _you_ have managed to put your _own_ life-” He started to say.

“Draco is in _imminent_ danger. I’m in more of... background danger.” She muttered. “I’m much more worried about _his_ well-being-”

“I’ve long since come to the realization that my warnings have been utterly wasted on you,” He said irritably, “However, I must remind you that it would be best for the _both_ of you if _you_ kept your hands as clean as possible.”

“You’re quite right.” She said, sourly, then- “It _has_ been wasted on me.”

Snape gave a sharp, annoyed shake of his head before pulling a pile of papers to him. Remington knew that this was her cue to leave, though she didn’t move, watching him in silence for a few moments.

After a long pause, she said, “There was a girl once, wasn’t there?” He didn’t look up, seeming to still look over the parchment, though she knew she had his attention. “A girl you loved.” He said nothing, but she didn’t mind. She was mostly thinking aloud.

“It makes sense, why you haven’t given yourself completely to- the Dark Lord.” She continued, “There’s something- something you’re trying to preserve of her. Almost like some childhood promise you’ve not let go of.”

“I see that you’ve become more talented at anatomizing people.” He remarked, not looking up from the work he was pretending to do.

“Well I’ve been trying to figure out why you’ve been so lenient with me. I thought for sure I’d done more than I should have gotten away with.” She said, “Particularly after- Christmas break.” She added, “And you kept telling me that it’d be safer staying away from this all. You never tried to tell me that I was being foolish, that I didn’t care so much about Draco- because you knew. You know what it’s like to love someone. Even at my age-” She stopped, knowing she’d said enough. He knew what she was saying, and what she was trying to say was beginning to get harder to understand, anyway.

“The more difficult decision,” He said after a second of silence. There was a tart sort of mirthless amusement in the way he said it, “Was whether I should help you to protect Draco, or to help Draco protect you.”

She stared at him for a moment, working up something to say. He seemed to guess this, and apparently through with talking to her, he dipped a quill in a bottle of ink and said, “Dismissed.”


	34. Caught

 “You’ll just have to reuse some of the identities you had before if you’re running out.” Draco hissed to Crabbe, on her right-hand side.

They’d been descending from the seventh floor; her, Draco, and Crabbe and Goyle. Apparition lessons were going to begin soon, and they needed to be in the Great Hall ahead of time. But as they passed a couple floors, Crabbe had begun to complain that their Polyjuice reserves were running low as far as how many people they could still change themselves into.

It hadn’t taken long after she first noticed them for Rem to sort out that the girls that waited outside of the Room of Hidden Things, warning Draco whenever there was someone in the corridor outside, were indeed Crabbe and Goyle. Though, they’d been called on a bit less since Rem became aware of just what Draco was up to, since she could easily leave the room first to be sure the coast was clear, therefore averting any suspicion from him.

“Someone’s going to hear you.” Remington commented. This only seemed to rile Crabbe up that much more.

“And why is _she_ allowed inside when we’re not?” He pressed, “She hasn’t been around half as long as we have.”

Remington shot a glare at him from Draco’s other side.

“Because she’s too stubborn for me to keep out.” Draco snapped, though his annoyance was aimed at the boy to his right, rather than the girl who walked close by his side.

“ _We_ could keep her out.” Crabbe muttered.

“Oh! I’d like to see you try-” Rem began with contempt and venom, before Draco cut across her.

“I’ll kill you if you lay a hand on her.” He said calmly.

Crabbe shot Remington a nasty look, which she readily returned. She couldn’t help but think that Goyle, who had remained rather silent, though casting sidelong glances their way and certainly following the conversation, was her favorite out of the two thugs.

“Towards the back.” Draco remarked as they approached the Great Hall, and they found themselves an open spot near the back wall of the large room.

“It’d help if we knew how long we’ve gotta do this.” Crabbe mumbled, igniting another argument between him and Draco.

Remington stood near them, arms crossed and watching the people move about the room, her eyes zoning in on a small, frail-looking wizard at the front, obviously the Apparition teacher from the Ministry.

“Good morning,” The wizard said after a short moment, “My name is Wilkie Twycross and I shall be your Ministry Apparition instructor for the next twelve weeks. I hope to be able to prepare you for your Apparition tests in this time-”

“Malfoy, be quiet and pay attention!” Professor McGonagall barked.

Remington glanced over to see that Draco’s argument stopped only just then. She set her jaw in irritation, having thought he had the sense not to attract attention so blatantly. Everyone in the room looked around, including Harry, who’d caught sight of Draco from a few yards ahead. Draco’s face had taken on a tinge of pinkness, and he looked right furious as he took a step away from Crabbe. Snape, not far away, also looked a bit annoyed. She knew he wouldn’t have chastised Draco, and was bothered that McGonagall had taken it upon herself to do so in his place.

Twycross wasn’t the least bit put out that he’d been interrupted, “By which time, many of you may be ready to take your tests.” He talked a bit longer before telling everyone to move about so that they had at least five feet of space in front of them.

The whole room seemed to move as the students readjusted themselves, and Remington caught sight of Harry circling around to stand behind her and the three Slytherins. Draco, on the other hand, was taking advantage of the upheaval to continue the hushed argument with Crabbe.

“I don’t know how much longer, alright?” Draco shot at the slightly ape-like boy.

“Draco.” Rem hissed, trying to get him to shut up, but he just waved her off. She glared at him sharply, though he couldn’t see it.

“It’s taking longer than I thought it would.” Draco finished. Crabbe opened his mouth to respond, but Draco quickly intervened, “Look, it’s none of your business what I’m doing, Crabbe, you and Goyle just do as you’re told and keep a lookout!”

“I tell my friends what I’m up to, if I want them to keep a lookout for me.” Harry’s voice reached them, just loud enough to be audible.

Draco whipped around to face Harry, obviously having been completely oblivious to his presence. Rem could see him reaching for his wand, and quickly grabbed his arm. She could feel both boys’ eyes on her, but she kept her own locked with Draco’s, as if she could tell him to let it go without opening her mouth. Finally, he turned back around to face the front, and Remington’s hand lingered on his arm a bit longer than was likely acceptable. She shot Harry a quick look before she turned her own attention back to Twycross.

The rest of the lesson passed otherwise rather uneventfully, though a Hufflepuff, Susan Bones, managed to partially Apparate, splinching herself in the process.

Once they were dismissed, chatter filled the Hall. She glanced at Draco, and they all began to file out of the room.

“I’m going to the common room.” He said quietly.

“Probably a good idea.” She murmured, a bit reluctantly, giving him a quick look before she started up the Grand Staircase. It was times like this that she wished she were a Slytherin. She knew better than to think that she would’ve been happier as a Slytherin, but then it would be easier to sneak into Draco’s dorm, or sit in their common room. Instead of having to go to her own and face Fay.

The girl had started to get a bit sourer over her spending so much time with Draco, disappearing for long stretches of time. She was asking questions that Rem couldn’t answer, and growing upset at the fact she believed Remington was deliberately not answering her questions. Which may not have been completely wrong at times. Rem had a hunch that Fay was falling back on Seamus when this happened, and beginning to confide more in him than Rem.

When she reached the fourth floor, she was unable to get through one of the doors on her usual route. Peeves was on the other side, crooning that nobody could pass until they set fire to their pants. Unfortunately for Peeve’s entertainment, Remington had more sense than that. She started back the other way, sure she could find an alternative route, a longer route, of course, but one which didn’t end in her path crossing Peeves’.

She saw Harry and Ron heading the way she’d already gone. “I wouldn’t.” She said as she passed them.

They all stopped, “Why not?” Ron asked, trying to peer down the corridor.

“Peeves blockaded a door and will only let people through if they start their pants on fire.” She explained. “Know any other ways to the common room?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Harry said, grabbing Ron’s sleeve as they headed away from the sound of Peeves’ cackling.

Rem was going to walk behind and follow, but Harry seemed to want to keep her included, and so she walked beside him. Soon, she found out why he wanted to involve her.

“You and Malfoy seem pretty close.” Harry remarked. She should have known; after the little standoff during the Apparition lesson.

“So?” She replied noncommittally.

He paused, “What happened to telling me if you found something out?” He asked. Remington pursed her lips and did not respond. “You never had any intentions of telling me, did you?” He accused.

“If it wasn’t a big deal for you to know-” She began.

“This is important, Remington!” Harry interrupted her.

“You think I don’t know that?” She hissed, “I’m very aware of how bloody important it is. _And that is why I can’t tell you_.”

“Now,” He muttered, “You’ve abandoned us.”

“Oh, stop with the dramatics. I haven’t _abandoned_ you.” She said frustratedly, “I’ve just... figured out where my loyalties lie.”

“With _Malfoy_?” Ron demanded from across Harry. Rem had almost forgotten he was there.

“You don’t know anything about me and Draco-” She snapped.

“Perhaps we don’t,” Harry said, though she knew that wasn’t what his first thoughts were. “But we _do_ know about Malfoy, and he’s not a good-”

“Have you ever stopped to think,” Remington said, her voice sharp, but calm. “That perhaps he opens up to some people, the ones who won’t hex him just for being Malfoy, for example. That maybe, I’ve gotten to know him well enough to judge for myself.”

“All I’m saying-” Harry began to argue.

“Listen,” She said, “I _know_ what you’re saying. And I’m telling you that I can take care of myself. I know what I’m doing.”


	35. Sly Like Slytherin

Her feet were silent against the stone floor beneath them, stepping around random objects that jutted into the walkway, or small trinkets that had fallen onto the path. Whenever she managed to finish both his homework and her own, she tended to go off wandering. She did that before, too, but now she felt a bit daring enough to ramble farther from the clearing.

She flipped idly through a book that was bound in purple, and claiming to contain children’s riddles. Many of them she recognized from her own childhood, when she’d been only beginning to read. Her father had read a couple stories with her when she was little, but those had been rare. “The Warlock’s Hairy Heart” had been one of the first stories she’d read by herself, much to her father’s displeasure, and she proceeded to read that single fable every night until he told her to pick a new one.

She slipped the book on top of an upturned chair as she passed and went to continue on, though a movement caught her eye.

She turned quickly to see what it was that she saw, her heart beating fast, though she only saw a small section of a mirror peeking up from beneath a cloth. She took a step towards it to see the image of her foot move in the mirror’s reflection. Once she got close enough, she pushed the cloth to the side slightly to get a better look at the mirror, but the picture it presented to her was a dark, foggy one.

In curiosity, she yanked the covering off, taking a step back and examining the tall, intricately-carved mirror. There was an inscription across the top, but it didn’t appear to be in a language she knew, so she ignored it, focusing instead on her reflection, which nearly scared her as much as she had been a couple seconds ago.

She turned to look behind her, but didn’t see anything out of place, and so twisted back to face the mirror.

In the glass, she was smiling back at her true self, looking far happier than she’d really felt in a long time. At her side, her father stood proudly, his dark hair only a few shades blacker than his daughter’s, and a hand curved reassuringly on her shoulder. Marissel had her hand in his, the other against his arm as she smiled lovingly at the false-Remington. A true smile. With genuine love. At Rem’s other side was Draco, whole and strong, not at all like the tired, worn version that was wasting himself away trying to fix that Cabinet. In the mirror, he was standing partially behind her, one hand on her waist, the other hooked with hers. Their entwined hands swung slightly, contentedly, and she saw a slight flash from their fingers, and gave a mild start when she realized what it was. A _wedding band_.

In that moment, mirror-Draco’s eyes moved to meet true-Remington’s eyes and she jumped back slightly, turning away from the mirror, only for hands to grab her shoulders.

Still a little shaken, she turned her eyes up at the real Draco, her heart pounding in her chest. His brow creased slightly, “Alright?”

Composing herself, she nodded, “Fine.” She said, “I just wasn’t expecting you to be here.”

His eyes told her that he knew it wasn’t his presence that startled her. His gaze moved up to look behind her. “Found the Mirror of Erised, did you?”

“The- what?” She prompted.

“The Mirror of Desire, really.” He told her, turning her back around to look at the mirror.

Once again, her eyes were greeted with a very similar image, but now Draco’s reflection was in the same position as he was in reality, though still looking healthier than he really was. His eyes were turned on her rather than focused on the mirror. And that ring was still on her left hand-

“ _I show you not your face, but your heart’s desire_.” He said quietly in her ear. “The inscription above the glass is merely written backwards.”

She had a hard time tearing her eyes from her reflection this time, turning her head to look at him out of the corner of her eye, “What do you see?”

The corner of his mouth quirked up slightly before he pressed a kiss to the corner of her lips, his hands sliding down her arms as he turned away. “I just wanted to tell you that I was leaving for the night.”

She turned to face him as he started walking away, “Draco.”

He stopped to look back at her, taking on a mildly expectant expression, though he knew exactly what she wanted. “Yes?”

“What do you see?” She repeated, quieter this time.

“I haven’t looked long enough to know.” He said, dishonestly.

She had a feeling that he wasn’t exactly telling her the truth, not when he knew as much as he did about the mirror. She found herself subconsciously scratching her ring finger, which felt a little strange. As if her mind thought that there should be something on her hand after she’d seen the ring on it. “You know what I saw.” She remarked softly.

His eyes locked with hers, “Your father?”

“ _You_.” She said, “You know I saw you.”

He regarded her for a moment. “Good.” He commented. Her lips parted as if she were about to say something, likely affronted by his response, but he cut across her. “It’d be a pity if only one of us saw the other.” And he turned again to leave, without watching to see if she caught his words. He knew she would.

“If- _wait_.” She said with a demanding tone, a trickle of exasperation finding its way into her voice, and when he came to a halt again and looked back at her, he saw that it had made its way into her expression, as well, though she collected herself with not a second lost.

She was learning, he thought. She’d always been good at gauging her expression, only giving away what she wanted to, but she’d never been quite _good enough_. Not good enough to fool him, anyway. And she was learning better control. Learning from him.

“Come on, Rem.” He said, “I’m not leaving you in here alone.”

She set her jaw, something obviously on the tip of her tongue, though she restrained it, following him out of the Room of Requirement in relative silence. Which, of course, only confirmed his assumption that she was holding back. Though, he didn’t question her, but merely started towards Gryffindor Tower.

They were nearly to the right landing to the portrait of the Fat Lady when he heard the soft, tell-tale intake of breath she gave when she was about to say something. “Do you love me, Draco?” She asked calmly, her voice giving away none of the jitters she was feeling in her stomach.

Taken completely aback, Draco came to a halt. She stopped as well, turning back to look at him. He met her eyes, something that came as a surprise to her. She tried to read his expression, but couldn’t catch on to anything.

A slightly deviant look crossed his features, “ _Vere_.”

Her brow creased the slightest bit. The way the word rolled off his tongue told her it wasn’t any language she was familiar with. Which wasn’t hard to believe. She was only familiar with one language to begin with. “That’s pure cruelty.” She said.

The small smile that had been playing at his lips finally made an appearance, “It _truly_ is.” He murmured, kissing her forehead before he started to turn away.

“You aren’t going anywhere until you answer me _in English_.” She’d crossed her arms.

“But I already have.” He said, rather tauntingly, facing her again, though he didn’t step any closer to her.

She may have been more confused than upset, but it surfaced as mild scandalization. She opened her mouth to say something, but a muffled sound caught her ears. It drifted from below them, farther down the Grand Staircase. Both of them caught the noise and listened in silence for a moment. “You don’t suppose... ?” She started to ask.

Draco nodded. “I’m fairly certain it’s Filch. Maybe three floors down, four if we’re lucky-”

“Oh, just- come on.”

She hadn’t really thought about the possibility of someone being in the common room, since it was almost two in the morning, but the idea crossed her mind as she stepped through the portrait hole, into the inviting scarlet and gold circular room that was the Gryffindor common room. As Draco entered behind her, her eyes scanned the various overstuffed chairs and couches for fear of someone seeing that she’d brought a member of the rival house back with her.

“So,” She said after she finished her sweep of the room. “How does Gryffindor compare?” She inquired as she turned back to look at him, hoping to see what he thought of the common room, as opposed to his own.

But as she turned, she found that he’d come up behind her and stood frighteningly close. She tipped her head up to look at him, still expecting him to answer.

He leaned a bit closer and she let her eyes fall shut, feeling his hands brush her sides as he wrapped his arms around her. “Not my favorite colors.” He murmured before his lips met hers.

She stretched onto her toes to return the kiss, her hands finding his hair, and his finding her waist. Though, she didn’t let it go any farther before she moved her hands to rest against the place where his ribs ended, and lowered her head so she was speaking more to his chest. “I don’t want you to go.”

“We could always go back to the Room of Requirement.” He reminded her.

She hadn’t really thought of it before, but now she realized just how much they’d be able to get away with in that curious room on the seventh floor. Particularly when it adjusted to whatever the seeker needed...

“I don’t think-” She started, “You can’t think they wouldn’t notice us gone and put two and two together.” She said quietly. It was bad enough that she _knew_ some of the things that had passed around. She knew that a few students believed her to be little more than some slut whoring around with Draco Malfoy. If someone were to overhear them, or see the glances they gave each other, it was an easy assumption to make, considering they never _really_ spoke much in public. The relationship they displayed was something that was almost impossible to not misinterpret, but Rem had a feeling that Pansy might have had a hand in her tainted reputation, in all honesty.

“I told you once,” He said, “That you cared just as much about your reputation as I cared about mine, and you tried to argue with me about it.”

“The last thing I wanted was for you to be right.” She said, deciding that she probably wasn’t going to get to sleep too awfully soon, and didn’t really want him to leave anyway. She took a couple steps over to a couch and fell back into it, drawing her feet up and wrapping her arms around her knees. “I hated the idea of you _knowing_ me.”

He watched her for a moment, but ended up taking the seat beside her, “Why?”

“I didn’t have a reason to trust you. I didn’t have a reason to want to, with how you acted.” She shrugged, moving so that she could drape her legs over his lap and take one of his hands, idly brushing her fingers over his palm and examining it, along with the ring he wore.

“But you still told me everything.” He remarked quietly, watching her actions.

“There’s something about you, and despite how much I hated it at the time, and how much it still gets on my nerves sometimes, I just can’t shut up. I can’t stop myself from spilling my guts until it’s too late.” She said, slipping the ring off his finger and letting his hand fall to rest on her upper thigh as she turned the piece over in her hands, noting the emerald set in the middle, and the designs around it that looked suspiciously like M’s. A Malfoy Family ring- no doubt...

“That’s useful knowledge.” He remarked.

“Oh, it’s pretty obvious anyway-”

“You were doing a pretty good job of keeping _Isaac_ from me.” He pronounced the name in a way that Remington didn’t like at all.

“Draco-” She began to say, a warning in her tone.

“Don’t keep things from me.” He said, rather bluntly, causing her to pause and look up at him. “That’s all I’m going to ask.”

“What about you?” She prompted, “Why should you keep things from _me_?”

“You decided not to tell me simply because you didn’t want me to be angry with you. I refused to tell you because it was safer that you didn’t know.” He told her quietly.

She looked down at where his hand still rested on her leg, her face tinged slightly pink. She’d always been trying to tell herself that his secrets were so much worse, that she wasn’t as bad about what she chose not to tell him, but she now realized that she was much more selfish in her actions, even if her safety wasn’t _really_ the biggest factor in his decision. “I get it.” She mumbled, then glanced back up to find him watching her. She exhaled deeply and leaned forward to rest her head against his shoulder.

Now that they were in the comfort of a place familiar to her, with the fire making soft crackly sounds just a few feet away, producing the only light that lit the room, she could really feel her lack of energy. It’d followed her for weeks now, but most of the time she managed to ignore it. Until she was left somewhere quiet.

After a moment, Draco spoke up. “I should go.” He remarked quietly.

“You need sleep.” She agreed, straightening up, pulling her legs away from him and crossing them Indian-style.

“ _You_ need sleep.” He corrected lightly, getting to his feet. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” He whispered in her ear before he left.

She turned her eyes on the fire for a second before she went to get up, but something fell onto the couch as she shifted. She caught the glint of metal and stopped to grab the ring. She’d completely forgotten that she was still holding on to it. Though, it didn’t really matter. She’d have plenty of opportunities to give it back to him.

She made her way around the couch and started to cross the common room towards the door to the girl’s dormitories, and spared a swift glance towards the door to the boys’ quarters. Her stomach dropped slightly when she saw that the door had been left open. But... surely, their voices wouldn’t be able to drift up the stairs and reach anyone sleeping soundly in their beds, right?

She didn’t contemplate the idea of someone _not_ sleeping soundly in their beds, nor did she realize that the doors to the dormitories swung shut by themselves, so long as nobody was in their way.


	36. Long Time No See

“I’m going to dinner,” She announced quietly as she closed his Transfiguration book and straightened up from her chair, stretching. “Anything in particular you’d like me to bring back?” She stepped up beside the Cabinet and leaned against the open door, watching as he ran a hand along the side, near the roof of the wooden box.

Recently he’d begun to wonder if the Cabinet wasn’t merely defective _magically_ , but also in its normal _physical_ sense. He’d been trying to make sure it was put together properly.

He murmured a negative, but she didn’t move. “I still don’t like you actually being inside this thing.” She remarked. “What someone sneaks in and slams the door shut on you and you never come back out?”

“They’d need to know the incantation, Rem.” He reminded her, “I sure as hell am not going to say it when I’m in here.”

She rolled her eyes, about to turn away. But as she slipped her hands into her pockets, she felt her fingers brush something. “Oh, wait-”

He ceased whatever he’d been doing and leaned a shoulder against the side of the Cabinet, looking at her expectantly.

She pulled the Malfoy ring from her jean pocket and held it out, “This is yours.”

He looked at her outstretched hand, but made no move to take the ring. “And?”

“Don’t-” She started, giving him a slightly dumbstruck look. “Well don’t you want it back?”

“Does it do me any more good than it does you?” He inquired. “There’s no way anyone could mistake me for anything but a Malfoy.”

She gave him a look for a moment, “Are you,” She said slowly, “Implying something with this.”

He rolled his eyes, “Keep this up and you won’t get to the Great Hall before supper’s done.”

Her eyes narrowed playfully. “Fine, if you’re so keen to get rid of me-” She started to turn away, about to say something else, but he spoke before she could.

“Of course not.”

It was her turn to roll her eyes now, though she had a slight smile on her lips. “Don’t wait up.” She called back as she crossed the clearing. Not that telling him such would make him leave for the Slytherin Dungeons any sooner.

She made her way down the many staircases in relative solitude. Nearly every student would be in the Hall already; she knew that.

 “Well, well, well,” Came a voice from behind her. Another, nearly identical voice added, “If it isn’t Rems.”

She stopped in the middle of crossing a corridor on the first floor. Confusion swept over her for a moment. What on earth would the twins be doing at Hogwarts? She turned around, not missing a beat. “If it isn’t the bane of Filch’s existence.” She responded, smirking slightly at the two red-haired boys. No matter what the situation was, the Weasley twins could get anyone to smile.

“The two and only.” George flashed her a wide grin.

“Out late, Remy,” Fred commented.

She merely shrugged in response. “What brings you two back here? I’d figure you’d avoid this place like the plague after you escaped.” She remarked jokingly.

“We decided we’d better check in on you,” Fred beamed.

“Make sure Malfoy’s treating you right,” George continued.

“Speaking of which-” Fred squinted at her.

“Is that a hickey I see?” George finished, smirking slightly at her.

Remington scowled, raising her hand to rub the side of her neck self-consciously. No one made comments to her about it anymore, not even Fay. Though, she didn’t really talk much to anyone else in the first place. It reminded her how much she missed the simplicity of the year before. When she actually maintained friendships and wasn’t constantly worried for Draco. And the fact that the twins had no knowledge of how she’d been behaving towards everyone; despite how un-normal this meeting was, it felt more normal than much of the year had.

“Probably.” She mumbled under her breath. Considering how much time she spent with Draco, it was bound to happen. Often.

“Shame, shame, Rems.” George shook his head at her in mock disappointment, though she knew at least a part of it was real.

“To think you once seemed _reserved-_ ” Fred added.

“It’s not like I’m going around snogging all sorts of boys- there’s only one...” She argued.

“Still questioning why you chose _Malfoy_...” George said thoughtfully. They might have accepted that it was her choice who she spent her time around, but it didn’t change how much they despised Draco.

“Just promise you’re watching your back.” Fred asked of her.

“Particularly with that little troll of a girl, Parkinson roaming about.” George muttered.

“How thick do you think I am?” She propped her hands on her hips.

“Actually-” Fred began, wrapping his fingers around one of her arms, completely encircling it.

“You’re awfully thin.” George nodded.

“Have you been eating your three square meals a day?” Fred concluded, shaking her arm slightly.

She yanked out of his grip and glowered at them slightly. “No, they’ve been quite round, actually.” She said sarcastically.

“There you are,” George pointed at her.

“That explains it!” Fred agreed.

Rem rolled her eyes, “So why are you _really_ here?” She pressed.

“Family issues.” George answered after a short pause.

That’s when she realized how close they were to the hospital wing. She felt a slight skip in her pulse. “Ginny- ?” She began.

“Gin’s fine.” Fred assured her.

“It’s Ron...” George commented.

“Is he alright?” She asked. Though she wasn’t particularly good friends with Ron, she couldn’t deny that she’d feel awful if something happened to him, or any of the other former D.A. members. “What happened?”

“Long story short-” George started to say.

“He was accidentally poisoned.” Fred finished for him.

“Something to do with a bottle of mead Slughorn had.” George threw in.

“And love potions.” His twin added.

“Is he alright?” She repeated. She assumed he was fine, since they didn’t seem too horribly concerned, but they still hadn’t answered.

“He’s alive and kicking.” Fred nodded.

“Gave us quite a scare, though.” George admitted.

“Lord knows-” Rem said quietly. “I regret to cut this short, but-”

“Get down to the Great Hall.” Fred told her, taking on a serious air, though he was frowning just a bit too enthusiastically to be taken seriously.

“Supper’s going to end in _minutes_.” George agreed.

“You needn’t worry,” She laughed as she headed for the stairs, “I know where the kitchens are.”


	37. Accusations And Insinuations

Remington showed up to Defence Against the Dark Arts a bit early, flashing a look at Snape as she walked in, but he shot her an equally pointed one.

Ron’s poisoning had been bothering her. And of course, she knew it most likely had something to do with Draco. Since the beginning of the year, bad things normally did. She’d almost been expecting to talk to Snape about it, but now that she was here, she realized how stupid she was to have thought such.

She settled into a seat in the back row, as she always tried to do. She yanked her textbook onto the table, and seeing as nobody else was in the room yet, she cast another look in Snape’s direction before opening her book.

“I’m assuming you’ve heard?” She prompted, not turning her eyes on him. The words had been itching to leave her mouth. All she wanted to know was whether it was Draco’s doing or not, for certain.

“If you are speaking of the... _incident_ last night-” Snape trailed off.

“And I’m right to believe it’s something to do with him?” She continued. When he didn’t respond, she knew she’d been correct.

A few people started to make their way into class, sitting randomly about the room. When Draco walked in, he wordlessly took a seat beside her.

She shifted a bit, straightening her back slightly and glancing at her lap before saying, “I need to talk to you.” She spoke quietly.

“I knew you would.” He returned.

She gave him a long, calculating look. With that, she knew he was fully aware of what had happened to Ron Weasley, and he wasn’t going to deny having a hand in it.

She spent the class only partially paying attention, and failed to catch any of the notes that Snape went through, though she did manage to scribble down the assignment before the bell rang to dismiss them. She slid her books into her bag and caught Draco’s eye before she left the room. Most of the class would be heading upstairs, to their common rooms, considering many of them had a free period this hour; the other few downstairs for Potions. But Remington started away from the stairs, knowing that she was followed by the prickle at the back of her neck and the soft sounds of pursuit.

She slipped into the first alcove she found, stepping back away from the light that drifted through the stained-glass window. Only a moment later, the blond boy joined her.

“You can’t keep doing this, Draco.” She said, not pausing for any pretext. “Pretty soon you’re _going_ to hit an unintended target and it’s _going to be fatal_.” Her voice was deliberate and low, not wanting to chance at someone overhearing. “Could you handle killing two people? One of your fellow students-”

“Don’t, Remington.” He said lowly, “Just _don’t_.”

“ _You_ don’t.” She shot back. “Just stick to your plan. This isn’t going to end well if you keep _this_ up-”

“It might not end well if I don’t.” He retorted.

She exhaled through her nose, closing her eyes for a moment. “Don’t consider that.” She said quietly, “Just focus on getting the Cabinet fixed.”

“It’s not exactly _easy_ to overlook the fact my days are numbered.” He started to argue.

“They _aren’t_.” She snapped. “Nor will they ever be, if I have anything to say about it.” Her eyes flashed at him. “I’m not-”

“I regret to inform you, you really _don’t_ have anything to say about it.”

“ _Stop_. Please _stop_.” She said. She’d turned her head to the side, her eyes closed. It wasn’t a common occurrence for him to admit his doubts, even less so for him to argue everything that was against him. She knew he wasn’t entirely confident with this task, it was obvious with these alternate attempts he’d made, but other than them, she wasn’t sure how he dealt with it. She wasn’t completely happy that he was still determined to show as little vulnerability to her as he could, particularly when he’d seen her at what was damn near her worst. She’d give him time, though. Hell, he could have all the time in the world.

But _this_ sort of vulnerability, where he was genuinely considering the worst, and expecting its probability, wasn’t what she wanted. And it wasn’t anything she wished to listen to.

“I don’t want to talk about this.” She said quietly. The bell announcing the start of their next class jarred her back to reality. They didn’t have all the time in the world. Despite the situation, they were still a part of normal life as well. “We’re late for Potions.”

“Well, seeing as we’ve already lost the House Points-” He began to say.

She gave him a look. “No.” She said simply, stepping past him and out of the alcove, determined to get to class before she missed anything important. “I am _not_ skipping Potions. I’m having a hard enough time as it is-”

There was a slight smirk on his lips as he walked at her side. “Suit yourself. If you’d like to walk into class late with me-”

At the time, she hadn’t really grasped what he was getting at, being that she was a little preoccupied with trying to remember whether Slughorn was going to start going over something new that day. However, she knew exactly what he was insinuating the moment they stepped into the classroom.

Any class was the same. If someone were to walk through the door, the student body as a whole would look up to see who it was and what they wanted, whether out of pure curiosity, or hopes that it might be some excuse to get them out of work. And so, everyone looked up as Draco and Remington walked into the room.

Rem fought back the flush that threatened to creep onto her face and walked across the room to take the seat next to Blaise, who was smirking resolutely at her. She no longer sat with the Gryffindors, considering how much better she seemed to fare with Draco, and even Blaise. Draco silently claimed the spot beside her.

Slughorn’s eyes followed them, and with as little ado as Rem supposed he was capable of, he took ten House Points from Slytherin and Gryffindor and continued on talking about the Polyjuice Potion. However, whispers still floated about the room over the interruption. One guess as to what everyone assumed Remington and Draco had been up to.

Rem felt a nudge to her elbow and looked over at Blaise, who still wore the same suggestive look. “So, did you have a nice-” He began to say quietly, but Remington quickly cut him off.

“ _Nothing happened, Zabini_.” She hissed under her breath. From her left, she could hear Draco laugh softly. She leaned back in her chair so she could alternately give them both scathing looks. “You’re horrible. The both of you.”


	38. A Lingering Suspicion

“Gryffindor’s team is just _better_ , though. Well, maybe that’s a lie. Since we lost Katie, and now Ron-”

“That _should_ have left the team better off. Without the Weasel-”

“Oh, shush.” Rem said, rolling her eyes. “You can deny it all you like, but I know how it is.”

“Obviously not.” The feminine voice threw her off for a second, but she cast a sidelong look at one of the two girls walking with them. They were, of course, not really girls at all. The wonder of Polyjuice Potion.

“Maybe you should just stick to not talking.” Remington suggested.

Draco smirked slightly and the supposed girl who had spoken, none other than Crabbe, just shot her a dirty look.

“I’m only saying-”

Draco’s step faltered for a second before he resumed his stride, a bitter look on his face. Rem’s eyes flicked up to look down the hall, where, sure enough, Harry Potter was walking towards them.

Harry seemed to be the only one who could bring such changes to Draco’s mood (with the exception of herself, at times)- changes for the worse, always.

“Where’re you going?” Harry demanded, perfectly exhibiting Gryffindor’s most common flaw: the failure to think before speaking.

“Yeah, I’m really going to tell you, because it’s your business, Potter.” Draco retorted sharply. Remington almost wished she had something to say, but knew there wasn’t anything that wouldn’t force the situation downhill that much faster. Instead, she kept her eyes locked on Harry’s face. “You’d better hurry up, they’ll be waiting for ‘the Chosen Captain’ - ‘the Boy Who Scored’ - whatever they call you these days.”

Crabbe’s girl-self gave a slight giggle as they passed Harry, which only set Remington off that much more. “Shut up!” She snapped venomously under her breath.

Nobody said anything as they made their way the last floor or two to the seventh.

“You can’t talk to Harry like that-” She remarked severely as they walked into the Room of Hidden Things, having left Crabbe and Goyle in the hall. “You know-”

“He needs to stay the hell out of my business.” Draco snapped, turning back around to look at her. They hadn’t gotten two yards from the door, which dissolved silently behind her.

“You need to think about what you’re risking, here! Just because you feel like you’ve got something to prove to him- you can’t give him the evidence he needs. By then, the ruse will be up.” She could feel his attention slipping. He opened his mouth to argue, but her hand flashed up to motion for his silence. “You know I’m right. Don’t go picking fights with Harry. Don’t go making little comments that will only make up his mind further. Keep a level head. A low profile.”

“How incompetent do you think I am?” He demanded.

“You’re not incompetent.” She snapped. “You’re impulsive and too proud for your own good.”

“Sounds a lot like you, actually.” He returned, obviously not happy that he was being chastised like a little kid.

“At least I can admit it.” She arched an eyebrow, “Now, since you _insisted_ on staying up here rather than going to the Quidditch match-”

“I _told_ you you didn’t have to stay. Crabbe and Goyle-”

“Are irrelevant. There isn’t a single decision I’ve made that has anything to do with them.” She finished.

He shook his head in mild irritation and started towards the clearing.

The Gryffindor-Hufflepuff match would be starting any minute, if it hadn’t already. Harry had every right to be suspicious over them not going down to watch the match, when it wasn’t likely that there were even half a dozen other students still in the castle.

**=+=+=+=**

She nearly always felt watched. It was a strange sensation, but she could never place it. It was something she didn’t understand. The feeling was _everywhere_ it was so rare that it went away, that she never noticed the moment it left.

Of course she’d had the suspicion that it was Harry, but that was just that. Her being suspicious. She knew it was completely ridiculous. Harry couldn’t follow her -- or _them_ , rather -- her and Draco, that is, all the time. Nor did she really expect that he was that dedicated to figuring out what the deal was. After all, it’d been a couple weeks since the Quidditch match.

The normal sounds filled the Room of Requirement, the broken record player, the mysterious noises yet unknown, and the dull scratch of a quill. At the sound of a loud clatter and an equally piercing scream, Draco immediately froze, and Remington looked up at him from the homework she’d been working on. “What on earth-”

“Someone frightened off Goyle.” He said slowly, quietly. Her eyes met his, giving away what she’d already guessed. If someone was out to scare the young girl standing outside of the room, they’d have to know that it was actually Gregory Goyle. And the only other person they knew was aware of _that_ situation, was of course, “Potter.” Draco breathed resentfully.

“I could go investigate.” She offered, shutting the Potions book a little too eagerly, wanting an excuse not to work on it any longer.

He looked at her for a moment, contemplating. “Wait just a bit, then go look.”

“Alright.” She said, getting to her feet and heading away from the clearing and towards the door. She leaned against the trunk near the entrance for a moment, attempting to count out the seconds so she wouldn’t leave too soon, but ended up abandoning the effort and pulling open the door.

When she stepped into the hallway, she caught a glimpse of something, though after a slight flutter, it was suddenly out of sight. Crossing her arms, she shot a couple sidelong looks down the corridor. “Harry, it’s not as if I don’t know you’re here.”

Just as abruptly as he’d disappeared, Harry was back in sight, giving her a look. “How would you know it’s me?”

“Who would spook off some poor little girl unless they knew that said little girl wasn’t _actually_ a little girl?” She would have added a, “At least not on the outside,” to the end of that if it had been Crabbe, but refrained from insulting Draco’s more tolerable lackey. “Harry, really. Neither of us are that dull.”

“Neither meaning you and I, or you and him?” Harry prompted, jaw set.

“Alright then, _none_ of us are that dull.” She reiterated. “But that’s beside the point. Why don’t you just go back to your common room-”

“ _Our_ common room.” He corrected sharply, “You’re a Gryffindor, too. In case you’ve forgotten.”

“Of course I haven’t forgotten!” She responded indignantly. “I sleep in the Gryffindor dorms, despite the fact nobody cares to see if I even come back at night! I sit at the Gryffindor table for every meal, despite the fact there isn’t a single person there who will even speak to me! I’m very well aware of what House I’m in, thank you! I’m also quite aware of which one I really belong to!” Slightly surprised by her own outburst, but masking her own embarrassment, she glared at the dark-haired boy standing a few feet away.

Harry didn’t seem half as put-out by her slight tantrum as she herself was. “So you think you belong in Slytherin?” He prompted.

“I most certainly belong to one. If I don’t belong there myself.” She said, though her voice was still a little quiet with mild mortification.

“Is that why you brought him into Gryffindor Tower?”

 _Oh, no_. “You heard us?” She asked in disbelief.

“I _saw_ you.” He corrected, his eyes narrowing slightly.

“How did you-” She started, then it dawned on her. She managed to look affronted. “You were watching through the door!” She accused, “With the invisibility cloak, to be sure.” He had the decency to turn a couple shades pinker, though kept a straight face. “And let me guess, that mental little map of yours had something to do with it, too.”

“I’ve been keeping an eye on Malfoy-”

“And you’re going to end up getting someone hurt because of it.” She interrupted him. “Trust me, you’re not doing anyone any favors. Quite the opposite, actually.”

“Don’t protect him, Remington.” Harry said, “Whatever he’s up to- whoever he’s after- It’s nothing good.”

“I don’t _care_ about what you think he’s doing, Harry!” She said, her eyes resting on him for a moment, not in a glare, but a pointed look. “And I’ll protect him as much as I need to.” She added a bit quieter before she turned back and walked back into the Room of Hidden Things, slamming the door behind her, watching to be sure it dissipated without admitting any unwanted soul.


	39. Chocolate Frogs

Rem shifted in her seat, shooting a slightly displeased look at the back of Fay’s head, who was sitting nearly all the way across the room. It seemed like eons ago that they sat beside each other in nearly every class, talked throughout lunch, and worked on homework together. Things that _friends_ did. But it was replaced with glances shot at each other that turned cold as soon as the other met their eyes, or determinedly ignoring each other when they ended up seated too close at Gryffindor’s table. Things that friends never did. Things like brushing aside the fact it might be the other’s birthday.

“I’m getting the impression you’d rather sit beside Dunbar than me.” Draco’s voice sounded quietly, right by her ear.

Remington turned her head to flash him a slightly scathing look. “Why on earth would I want to sit next to my friend when I’ve got a perfectly smug, sarcastic neighbor as it is?” She said, though it didn’t help her case that she used a fair amount of sarcasm in the sentence herself.

“I’ll let you get away with that.” He told her, wearing a smirk as he turned his eyes to the front of the room, where Flitwick was demonstrating some charm or another. “Only because it’s your birthday.”

“You remembered.” Remington remarked, giving a light, smug smile. Maybe she was the person she’d been talking about...

As Professor Flitwick turned to write something on the blackboard behind him, Draco leaned over and nipped lightly at her ear. She shoved him back, her face a bit pinker than usual, thanking the gods they were in the last row of the classroom. “Keep it in your pants, Malfoy.” She hissed in his direction.

“That’s not what you _really_ want.” He shot back at her under his breath.

Remington couldn’t suppress her blush when a Hufflepuff in front of them turned around and gave them a look. She flashed him a sneer and he quickly turned back around.

“I think you’ve spent too much time with me.” Draco commented to her.

She merely glanced at him before shifting her attention to the front of the room.

**=+=+=+=**

The upper corridors seemed mostly deserted, and the higher one went, the fewer people there were to meet. Remington ascended the final set of stairs, tapping her wand against her leg in a broken, seemingly mindless rhythm. In reality, it belonged to some song or another that had ruthlessly instilled itself in her head, but she was distracted enough to miss half the beats.

When she reached the hall that housed the Room of Requirement, she was mildly surprised to see someone leaning against the wall outside of it. Her first thought was, of course, Crabbe or Goyle, or - a more bitter part of her mind added - Harry, but there was no way she could mistake the figure of the person just down the corridor. She knew him far too well.

“This is new.” She commented as she approached, arching her eyebrows.

“I assumed that you might want a change of scenery.” He commented. She’d known for a while that her birthday was probably one of few days she’d be able to keep him away from the Vanishing Cabinet.

If he’d entered the Room of Requirement, she wouldn’t have been able to mysteriously guess what exactly was on the other side and have it let her in. She crossed her arms, still looking at him. “Surprise me.”

The ceiling seemed to rotate, the specks on its dark blue surface circling like blinding vultures, hundreds of miles away. She didn’t realize right away that it was replica of the night sky, revolving quietly in less than half the time it should have taken.

“Better than I thought, even.” Draco commented, drawing her away from staring at the roof of the room in total captivation.

She glanced at him, “Not bad, I suppose.” She allowed, stepping further into the room. There were a couple odd shelves and curious objects about the room, but otherwise it was mostly bare. She got a feeling like she was on the inside of a globe, as there was no separation between the walls and the ceiling, just a continuous curved surface.

“As if I didn’t see the look on your face when you stepped in here.” He remarked, walking past her. She scowled lightly at his back as he took a seat in one of the armchairs in the center of the room.

Hours later, she found herself curled up in the same armchair. After about a half hour of explaining the storyline of Pride and Prejudice from cover to cover, merely because she enjoyed talking about it, she realized she must have fallen asleep.

But perhaps saying that she merely _found_ herself curled up in the armchair insinuates too much that it was somewhat peaceful.

Her eyes flashed open, the feeling of something watching her, standing at her back lingered. The darkness of the room didn’t help to calm her from the nightmare in the least. She was breathing hard and her heart beat fast and painful in her chest.

“Rem.” The voice frightened her at first, but she started to feel a bit less shaken as his arms tightened around her. “Alright?”

“Yeah.” She said, though her voice sounded rather raw. She shifted so she could sit up on her own, as much as she could when she was pretty much in Draco’s lap. Her legs were bent over his, somehow sharing the armchair. She’d fallen asleep curled against his side.

“It wasn’t the dream again-” He began. He’d let go of her when she moved away.

“You’d _know_ if it was _that_ dream.” She told him. “I haven’t had that dream for a long time.”

“Good.” He commented as she stretched her arms above her head. “Now you’re going to give me an excuse for you to leave.”

“Not an excuse,” She disagreed, “It’s late; I need to be getting back to the Tower.”

“Early, would be more appropriate,” He corrected, “It’s already this late, Rem. You might as well stay.”

“I’m not going to stay.” She said decisively, getting to her feet and looking back at him. “Not when someone might notice me gone.” She was always in the Gryffindor dorms either when everyone was going to sleep, or when everyone was waking up. Rarely both, but at no time neither.

He stood up, his hands wrapping around her arms. “Excuses.” He repeated, pressing his lips against hers. Her hands caught at the back of his neck, pulling him a bit closer. His arms were hooked around her waist when he broke the kiss, leaning to speak in her ear. “You’re a legal adult. How does it feel?”

“Exactly the same.” She replied, “But that’s alright. I like it that way.”

He kissed the side of her face before he pulled away from her. “Goodnight.”

“Go to your dorm.” She said, “Please.”

“After you.”

She made her way silently through the common room and up the steps to the girl’s dorms, not before confronting a very annoyed Fat Lady, who was more than obviously getting fed up with being woken in the middle of the night. All thanks to that “nasty, rotten, little Slytherin.”

She started tugging off her sneakers when she reached her bed, and only then did she see something resting in the middle of her bed. Once she’d yanked off her other shoe, she climbed onto the bed and picked the object up to examine it further.

A chocolate frog.


	40. Flightless

“You could always send me through that thing and see if I make it.” She suggested jokingly.

“That’s not even remotely funny.” Draco told her, holding his hand out to take the bird from her.

She was holding the small yellow ball of feathers with both hands, very impressed that it hadn’t bitten her yet. “But I’ve gotten a bit attached.” She remarked, lifting the bird to hold it beside her face, mustering the best puppy dog eyes she could.

He stood up from where he was crouching in front of the open Cabinet, his hand held out insistently. “And I’ve gotten a bit attached to you, now give me the bird.”

She felt a slight prickle in her stomach at his comment. It wasn’t often that Draco expressed straightforward fondness for her.

She looked at him for a moment, then ducked around him, crouching to let the bird go in the bottom of the Vanishing Cabinet. She made a soft sound, normally of the type reserved for pets or when trying to call a skittish animal, before she straightened and swung the door shut as she turned to face Draco.

“If you kill it, you owe me a canary.” She said, looking up at him with eyes that still hadn’t lost all of the softness that she’d felt towards the bird, having probably thrown it to its death.

“If this works,” Draco said, “I’ll buy you a house full of canaries.”

She cracked a crooked grin and stepped out of his way, heading over to the chaise, where a blanket was waiting. She curled up with the blanket, which was actually just a sheet from the Gryffindor dorms. She watched Draco as he recited the necessary incantation. He opened the Cabinet to be sure the bird was no longer inside. He closed the door and paused, taking a deep breath.

It hurt to see him like this. He was so afraid. He was in over his head, but he didn’t have a choice. Remington knew why, too, though she hadn’t told him. She wasn’t going to tell him. If she could spare him a bit of pain, it was worth it.

After Lucius’ failure at the Ministry the year before, it only made sense that the job at Hogwarts that Voldemort needed done be given to Draco. But Draco wasn’t expected to be able to finish said job. And then the Dark Lord would have an excuse to kill him. It was Lucius’ punishment. To watch his only son willingly walk to his own demise, and not be able to do anything about it.

But Remington clung to the hope he’d be able to. She knew he’d be able to fix the Vanishing Cabinet. She hoped he wouldn’t have to kill anyone in the end, but she couldn’t have everything.

If she could get away from the world. If she could take _him_ away from the world, so that he wouldn’t be in danger-

She was pulled out of her thoughts as he opened the door a second time. She could see his face, and she could see the dismay that crossed it. She lunged to her feet, crossing the space between him and the chaise. She didn’t need to ask to know that the bird was dead.

“We’ve almost got it, Draco.” She said, trying to distract him, even slightly. To comfort him. “We’ve got time. It’ll be alright.”

He swung the Cabinet shut forcefully and ran a hand through his hair in exasperation, frustration, desperation, despair.

She took his face with both hands so that he’d look at her. “You’ll be alright.”

She knew that if this had been a slightly younger Draco, one not so beaten, he’d have snapped at her not to speak to him like a child. Instead, he pressed his lips to her forehead. She wrapped her arms around his neck.

“I’ll get you another canary.” He mumbled.                                 

She gave a light laugh, kissing the joint of his shoulder and neck, “I probably wouldn’t be a very good owner, anyway. Every goldfish I owned ended up in the toilet.”

Eventually, she went back to the chaise, and he began trying to solve the problem with the Cabinet. It wasn’t until a bit later when Rem spoke up.

“You know,” She said softly, thoughtfully. “Dumbledore is a powerful man.”

At the time, she was looking into her lap, picking at her nails, so she didn’t see the surprise, disbelief, and sliver of fear taint Draco’s expression. She couldn’t know-

“And the Order, too.” She continued, oblivious to the shock she’d given him. “I’m sure they would be able to hide your family-”

Slowly, he relaxed, realizing that she hadn’t been saying what he thought she was. She glanced at him when he didn’t respond right away. “What about Bellatrix?”

Remington made a slight face, “She wouldn’t be included, of course.”

“She’d just go after you, knowing that it’d chase me out of hiding.” He said, leaning against the Cabinet.

She blinked, showing the obvious signs not entirely understanding. “Why?”

“ _She’s_ the one who taught me Occlumency, Rem,” He explained, “She knows everything.”

“Everything?” She repeated.

“What you mean to me.” He said a bit reluctantly, “Or at least, what you did over the summer.”

“There’s a difference?” She inquired.

“Obviously you’ve grown on me a bit more since then.”


	41. Silver Side Up (I)

“You’re sure I won’t get yelled at?” She asked under her breath.

“Remington- I’ve told you-” Blaise began, his frustration evident.

“I’m sorry. I don’t want to get in trouble. Particularly for... well... you know.” She said, “I’m a _Gryffindor_ for god’s sake-”

“Doesn’t that mean you should have the guts to do this without all of your complain-”

“I get it, alright?” She hissed, curving her shoulders slightly against the wind and following him up the steps to the bleachers on the Quidditch Pitch.

The weather had been mostly reasonable for a while now, but that particular day was windy, a couple dozen degrees below average, and punctuated with drizzle. That’s how the cards were dealt for the Slytherin and Hufflepuff match.

“And if-” She started to ask.

“Remington!” Blaise shot at her under his breath.

“Sorry!” She snapped back, scowling at his back as they walked down the benches to find a seat. Normally she wasn’t this sour with Blaise, but at the moment she was somewhere beyond jumpy.

They’d left the castle early so that Rem would be able to sit in the Slytherin stands without being so easily noticed. Fact being that the entire Gryffindor House would be rooting against the green and silver, she couldn’t very well cheer on her boyfriend from her own House’s stands.

The term _boyfriend_ still tripped her up sometimes. It was hard to think that Draco could be called something that intimate. It was hard to think she would ever be referred to as Draco Malfoy’s _girlfriend_. Nevertheless, that’s how it was.

“I hope you asked him if he’s _actually_ going to show up this time.” Blaise inquired as they sat at the far end of the stands.

“He _told_ me he was going to play this time.” She insisted, peering at the Slytherins filing up the steps and settling into spots on the benches. She shook her hair down so that it partially blocked the sides of her face. If Pansy Parkinson spotted her...

“You’re going to freeze before the game’s done, you know.” Blaise remarked not long after everyone seemed to be seated.

“My gloves, hat, _and_ scarf are all Gryffindor colors.” She said so that only he’d hear. “You can’t expect me to have brought them.”

“You could have asked to borrow Draco’s.” He suggested.

“ _Now_ you tell me.” She muttered.

“Only here to help.” He returned.

She nudged his side with her elbow as the players began to march onto the pitch, visibly straightening up to see past the people in front of her.

“As if it’s not obvious you’re hopelessly infatuated.” She heard him comment quietly, and smacked him on the arm, shooting a glare before turning back to try to find Draco. If he was even on the field...

But then she caught sight of his trademark white-blonde hair and suppressed the sigh of relief that rose to her lips. “I _told_ you.” She mumbled to him.

“Oh, for _once_ in her life Remington Alvers knows what she’s talking about.” He said, just a little bit too loud.

“Watch it.” She said warningly, though her tone wasn’t quite sharp enough to be threatening. “I’ll kick your ass, Zabini.”

“Really? _That_ would be interesting to watch.” His tone was undeniably mocking.

“I’ll have _Draco_ kick your ass _for_ me.” She reiterated. He merely laughed.

By now, the players had all taken to the air and Slytherin was in possession of the Quaffle, though it was quickly snatched back by Hufflepuff. To Remington’s surprise, Hufflepuff wasn’t nearly as easy of a match up against Slytherin as she thought it would be. They held their own pretty well, but the Slytherins were always just a little ahead. With how often she was on her feet, yelling as the Slytherin chasers neared the goalposts on the Hufflepuff end, she was afraid that she might end up losing her voice.

But as soon as it became obvious that the two seekers had spotted the Snitch, she stayed rooted in her seat. Draco had been the first to see it, but the Hufflepuff Seeker, whose jersey told her had the last name Summerby, had been closer to it. They ended up racing after the winged glint of gold side-by-side.

Most of the spectators were focused on the pair, but Madam Hooch was distracted by Crabbe, who’d apparently done something she didn’t approve of. While her attention was averted, she didn’t notice what Remington, and a percentage of the other onlookers did- the slight movement of Draco’s arm, where his elbow connected with Summerby’s and knocked the other boy off balance for a fraction of a second, but it was just enough time for Draco to reach out and grasp the Snitch.

Along with the entire Slytherin House, Remington was standing, cheering over their victory. There was a roar of disbelief, and even a bit of anger from the Hufflepuff stands from all of those who saw the _cobbing_ , as it was referred to in Quidditch terms.

“Your boyfriend just won the game with an illegal move,” Blaise said, “How do you feel about that?”

She glanced at him, seeing the smirk he was wearing. “You have to do what you have to do, right?”

His smirk grew slightly, “You could easily be a Slytherin.”

“Too bad, isn’t that, then?” She said, “C’mon, lunch’s going to be served soon.” She added, trying to make her way to the stairs.

Apparently karma was deciding to be kind, and let her leave the stands without being recognized. Blaise walked at her side as they started towards the castle, but she ground to a stop when they reached the entrance to the locker rooms.

“I thought you were hungry.” Blaise commented.

“Yeah, but I think... I think I’m going to wait for Draco.” She said, looking back and seeing his dubious look. She pointed at herself. “Hopelessly infatuated?” She offered.

He rolled his eyes and turned to continue up the hill. She walked over to the tunnel that lead back to the four separate locker rooms and leaned against the stone slabs of the wall just under its entrance, trying to escape the mist that was drifting down from the sky.

She crossed her arms and looked down at her sneakers. She’d just been thinking that it was time to get a new pair when an unfamiliar voice reached her ears.

“You’re Malfoy’s little trick, aren’t you?” She turned her eyes up to the boy who was walking towards her from down the tunnel. The mocking voice belonged to Adam Urquhart, the Slytherin Captain. “I hope you’re not the reason he’s been missing practice.”

“Of course not,” She replied, “Though I am the reason he didn’t miss this match.”

He made a quiet humming sound, eyeing her as he passed, “I think he expects you to go back there.”

Before she had time to ask him any questions, he was heading up the path to the castle, pulling his bag farther onto his shoulder, not looking back at her.

 _Slytherins_.

She glanced back down the tunnel to see Zacharias Smith giving her a strange look. She fought back a slight flush, and as soon as he’d passed, she decided she wasn’t about to let someone else give her the same dubious, questioning glance, and headed farther into the tunnel to find the door emblazoned with silver and green.

When she stepped inside, she saw him leaning against the far wall, smirking at her. “How on earth did I know you were waiting?”

“Because you’re not thick.” She replied, goosebumps flashing over her body, though this time it wasn’t because of the cold. It was because of how sexy his smirk was, how _undeniably_ attractive he was in his uniform, how adorable his hair looked, all windblown.

His eyes took her in, intensifying the goosebumps. “Slytherin suits you.” He remarked. “Where’d you get the scarf?” He pushed off from the wall and started towards her, much too slowly in her opinion.

She glanced down at the silver and green scarf that was wound about her neck. “Blaise lent it to me. I’d like to say that it was because he didn’t want me to catch hypothermia, but it was probably just because I was shivering so violently that he was having trouble paying attention to the match.”

“So you even snuck into the Slytherin stands, did you?” He asked as he came to a halt in front of her.

“Gryffindor would have disowned me if I sat in their stands, cheering you on.” She gave him a crooked smile. He grinned at the comment as he unwound her scarf. “Have you- showered yet, or anything?” She asked quietly.

“No, I’ve been waiting for you.”


	42. Silver Side Up (II)

She hadn’t realized just how cold she still was until the hot water met her skin, nearly making her want to run out of the shower stall, but Draco kept her there, an arm around her waist.

“Turn it down!” She demanded, though she was trying not to laugh, “ _Turn it down_!” But Draco wasn’t listening, he merely pressed his lips against the side of her neck.

She’d tried insisting that she shouldn’t get into the shower with him, though it didn’t get her far. Then she refused to take her clothes off in a _locker room_ , where _anybody_ could just walk in and find them. Eventually, though, he’d succeeded in getting her out of her jacket, then her sweatshirt, and so on-

However, she’d managed to keep her tank top and underwear on, much to his displeasure. And she’d drug him into the shower stall before he could take off his pants.

Sure, she had the urge just to let him do whatever he wanted with her, particularly after the look he’d given her when she’d first walked in, but one of them had to show a little sense of responsibility.

Slowly, the water’s temperature became bearable, but still warmed her. Or possibly it was because Draco’s hands were resting on the bare skin of her waist, her tank top bunched above his wrists, her body sandwiched tightly, but somehow comfortably between his and the wall of the shower stall. She had her thumbs hooked on the waistband of the loose-fitting white pants he wore for Quidditch, as if she needed to make sure he didn’t try to move away, which was completely unnecessary.

They’d kissed for a little while, but now they just rested their foreheads against each other’s.

“We’ve missed lunch.” She said softly.

“Does it matter?” He inquired.

She gave a light laugh, “No, not really.”

He pressed his lips to the corner of her mouth, “We _could_ go to the Room of Requirement-”

“We _could_.”

“Is that the nice way of saying no?”

“I just don’t want to make the decision-”

“Don’t you love me, Darling?”

She opened her mouth to say something, but nothing came out right away. He was looking at her almost expectantly, his forehead still against hers. “Draco-”

He turned the water off from behind him, shifting away from her. Her hands fell away from him and her tank top slid back to a more usual position, weighed down with water. “It’s alright.” He said, though he still left the shower stall.

“Draco, please.” She said, following him.

“Please what? I told you- it’s fine.” He insisted, grabbing a towel off one of the benches and running it over his head.

She exhaled in irritation, crossing her arms. Her scowl was slightly lacking, however, because she felt a tinge of disappointment and failed to keep it out of her expression, which appeared more like she was pouting, and rather childishly at that.

“Is it so horrible of me to be kind of scared?” She asked, having to force the words out.

He froze and looked up at her, something he’d been trying to avoid doing. He wasn’t sure exactly how her appearance would get to him. Her mixed expression of frustration and near-embarrassment made her look somehow younger, the innocence of it clashing with all the skin she was showing, wearing nothing more than a pair of lace-trimmed panties, and a light grey tank top that, thanks to its being soaked, displayed the green bra she wore beneath. Her hair still dripped water, sticking to her neck, shoulders, arms-

“Yes.” He replied, somehow keeping his composure. “I don’t want you to-”

“I’m not afraid of _you_.” She interrupted him. “I don’t really know what it is.” She mumbled a bit uncomfortably, feeling acutely exposed with the way he was looking at her. The only way she’d be able to get more clothes on, however, was if she walked over to where they lay on the bench Draco was beside.

She hesitantly made her way closer and picked her wand up, drying herself and her clothes with a simple nonverbal spell, which she’d grown more adept at since the beginning of the school year. Nonverbal Transfiguration was still a pain in the ass sometimes, but she had no trouble in Charms, and hardly ever in Defence Against the Dark Arts.

She pulled her jeans on and sat down on the bench, her back towards him. She tugged her sweatshirt onto her lap. She didn’t know what to say now.

“You know Slytherin’s going to be celebrating tonight, since we won.” Draco commented.

“Are you trying to warn me that you won’t be around tonight?” She asked, running her hands over the maroon sweatshirt.

“I’m trying to say I don’t want to be near the common room tonight.” He corrected.

“But you’re the hero,” She argued, “You won the game, don’t you think you should be there?”

He couldn’t deny how her words made him feel. To be called the hero. The winner. After fighting so many years to get some recognition, and only receiving bits and pieces, it was nice.

“I’ll stay for a while,” He allowed, “But I’m sure there will be plenty of opportunities for me to get out unnoticed.”

She turned slightly to look at him as he buttoned up his white shirt, otherwise fully dressed. “I’m surprised you don’t want to attend the party.”

“It’s not the same.” He shrugged slightly.

“So you want me to be in the Room of Requirement.” The statement was only slightly questioning.

“Of course I want you.”


	43. Restless

She leaned up against the wall opposite of where the Room of Requirement normally presented itself, then slid down until she was sitting on the floor. She didn’t know when Draco was going to show up, but she did have the feeling he didn’t ask her to come merely so that he had company while he worked on the Cabinet. In fact, he didn’t seem to have many worries about the task at all. Not today, anyway.

That didn’t bother her in the least. It was nice to see him closer to what she might have called normal, if she’d had any idea what that would have meant. Things had been so far from it for so long that she was starting to wonder exactly what the meaning behind the word really was.

The grounds were dark, the halls were dark, illuminated only by the lamps that glowed here and there down the corridors. Curfew was less than an hour away, not that she was too concerned. Remington had evaded detection after curfew time and time again. The prospect of being caught hardly crossed her mind.

She pulled the sleeves of her sweater over her hands before crossing her arms and tipping her head back against the wall behind her. She let her eyes shut, but kept herself awake enough so that she would hear any footsteps. She’d look like a bit of a loony if someone walked by and saw her napping in a deserted corridor.

The first steps she heard didn’t come for almost a half hour. At the sound, she opened her eyes just enough so that she could see past her lashes.

“How long have you been sitting there?” His voice reached her right before she caught sight of him.

“Not too long.” She replied, stretching and fixing her eyes on him

“An hour, I’ll guess then.” He was giving her a dubious look.

“Not an _hour_.” She said sharply, holding her hands up towards him. “Considerably less, actually.”

He rolled his eyes and his fingers closed around her wrists, pulling her to her feet just a bit too quickly, making her nearly run straight into him. “So long as you didn’t freeze to death, the specifics aren’t important.”

“How charming.” She arched her eyebrows at him and twisted her hands to grasp his wrists, as he hadn’t released hers. He looked down at her, and she met his eyes as she caught something- “You smell like alcohol.” She remarked, not sure how she should feel about that discovery.

“I just came from a party, Rem,” He said, “A _Slytherin_ party, no less.”

Her eyes moved down, though not out of timidity. “I just wasn’t expecting- ‘s all-”

“I only had one drink, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“No-” She shook her head lightly, “But if you were drunk, I might be a tad concerned. You’re awful enough sober.”

“Hilarious.” He commented, pulling her wrists closer to him and pressing his lips against hers.

She drew away from him after a moment, her nose brushing his. “We’re not going to the Room of Hidden Things.” She told him.

“I wasn’t planning on it.”

Her features took a turn towards furtive. “What did you have in mind?”

**=+=+=+=**

The Fat Lady was glaring at her as she stepped up in front of her portrait. “This could be your latest yet, Miss Alvers.” The woman said, “Any good excuses this time?”

Giving the painting an unamused look, Rem shook her head, “Dilligrout.”

“The next time I see your Head of House-” The Fat Lady began, but the painting had already swung open.

Remington entered the common room, making her way across to the stairs and heading up to the sixth year girls’ dormitory. All the other girls were sound asleep, not betraying that they had a care in the world. They all worried so much over little things; Parvati complaining that he sister was doing better in school, and therefore her parents must like her better; Lavender fretting about Ron due to her petty infatuation- for that was all it really was, an infatuation; Fay would surely have no worries any more pressing than the other girls’; Hermione may have been a bit more serious as far as any concerns of hers; and Rem couldn’t help but feel a selfish disdain for them, considering that she had only just started to let go of her father, and now she was walking on a narrow ledge with Draco- a sort of peril that Lavender could never begin to imagine.

Nevertheless, she tugged off her sneakers and socks, and changed into sweatpants, but she paused before taking off the sweater she was wearing.

She could still see, in her mind’s eye, the look he gave her, partially amusement, as he’d watched her tug the jumper over her head, only to realize that it was not Gryffindor colors at all, but green and silver. He’d shook his head and told her to keep it, claiming it looked better on her, anyway.

But that wasn’t the only moment she could remember so vividly. She could remember it all, this night in particular.

Unlike so many other times, this time she never pushed him away, made up excuses, or told him to stop, even though he’d asked more than once whether he should.

She could still feel the lingering sense of his hands, his pulse, his chest rising and falling as he held her. She hadn’t wanted to leave. She felt better, safer, warmer, and more loved in those moments than she could imagine she ever had. It felt like the reality of hell wasn’t out there, just for a few hours.

But when he’d asked her to stay, she had, as per usual, argued that she simply _couldn’t_. And eventually, he’d let her go.

She pulled the collar of the sweater over her nose and breathed in deeply. The same smell that had greeted her senses when she’d sat at the table behind the cauldron of Amortentia. The smell that was uniquely _Draco_.

Without pulling the sweater off, she crawled onto her bed and pulled the curtains shut.

Normally, it would have taken some time to really fall asleep. For a while now, sleep had been agonizingly slow to come, leaving her mind to wander and settle on all the unpleasant things that had been going on. But there were three words that rooted themselves in her mind and wouldn’t allow any other thoughts to take their place. It might have been frustrating if it weren’t for the fact that she probably would’ve replayed them over and over anyway, even if they hadn’t been so persistent.

_“I love you.”_


	44. Tedious Details

“Doesn’t it call for Wolfsbane?” She asked under her breath, staring blankly into her cauldron.

Slughorn had set them to brewing a potion, completely from memory. It wasn’t a particularly challenging potion, but Remington had a hard enough time correctly brewing potions with the instructions right in front of her.

“It calls for _valerian_ , Remington.” Blaise returned.

“I distinctly remember it saying aconite. Aconite is Wolfsbane.” She mumbled, though redundantly. She knew she was wrong. She needed to teach herself not to argue when it came to Potions.

“I’m very happy for you.” Blaise remarked, rolling his eyes from his place beside her. He seemed to have no trouble at all with his potion. As opposed to the smell of rotting leaves that was drifting from the Gryffindors’ table across the room. Namely Ron’s cauldron. “You know what Wolfsbane is.”

“I know what a lot of things are.” Rem retorted weakly, still giving her concoction a withering look. It wasn’t turning clear, as it should have.

Casting a furtive glance in her direction, Blaise shoved a small pile of roots her way. “Add these.” He told her.

She gave him a look, but gathered up the roots and dropped them into the cauldron as Slughorn was peering down into Ernie’s potion.

“I don’t understand how you got that O.W.L.” Blaise quipped quietly.

“Draco is the only reason I passed.” She told him, exhaling deeply as the potion _finally_ did what it was supposed to. “And _last_ year was bad enough for me. This is just pure torture.”

“What a relief that you have me and Malfoy around to keep you from making an idiot of yourself.”

“You are so _incredibly_ considerate, Blaise. I couldn’t possibly understand how you do it.”

“ _Speaking_ of Malfoy,” Blaise said, “Where is the prat?”

“You think I’d know?” She prompted.

“You spend more time with him than anyone else,” He stated, “I’m betting you know where he disappeared off to on Saturday night, too.” He smirked slightly at the pinkish tinge she’d taken on. “So I take it that my guess was perfectly correct. You decided to celebrate on your own.”

She shoved him with her elbow, not all too lightly. Not that it did much. “Can’t you keep your thoughts to yourself for once?” She snapped.

“It’s about time you gave up on denial.” He told her, “With how many nights Draco doesn’t show up in the Dungeons-”

“At _all_?” She prompted, forgetting for a moment that her main choice of action would have been to insist he was interpreting things quite wrong. She stopped in the middle of stirring the potion.

He gave her a look and gripped her wrist for a moment to force her to continue stirring so that she wouldn’t screw up the assignment. “At all.” He repeated.

“Well that would explain why you’re so convinced there’s more going on than there really is.” She said, though behind the generally nonchalant response, she had a feeling that if she saw Draco within the next few hours that she’d end up starting an argument. For how many times she told him to go to the Slytherin dorms, to not stay in the Room of Hidden Things too long-

He made a derisive sound and rolled his eyes. “You _are not_ going to tell me I’m wrong.”

“Alright,” She said bitterly, extinguishing the fire beneath her cauldron. “I won’t.” He was looking at her in a satisfied way that only vexed her that much more, “If you’ll _shut up_ about it.”

He laughed, “Show some respect, Alvers. I just earned you an Exceeds Expectations.”

She glared after him as he went to turn in his vial.

**=+=+=+=**

“Why didn’t you come to class?” She asked, walking into the clearing to find him sitting at the chipped table, leaning over a book. Her eyes trailed over the Cabinet as she passed. It really was a beautiful thing, carved in a simple, but elegant pattern, polished so its red-tinged finish gleamed. It may have saved lives in its time. She hated it all the same, knowing how frustratingly uncooperative it was being. It could ruin everything.

She leaned against the table once she reached it. He didn’t look up at her.

“I blew this off all Saturday-” He began.

“That doesn’t mean that you _need_ to make up that time.” She told him. “Sometimes you need to just... get away from it a bit. It’s not healthy.” He opened his mouth to say something, but she cut across him, “And don’t try bringing up the details. I _know_ what’s at stake.” She promptly seized the book and slid it away from him, folding a page corner and shutting it. He glared at her, but she merely hopped up to sit on the table.

“Since you weren’t at Potions, Blaise had to help me on the sly so I wouldn’t fail the assessment.” She told him. “He also made a comment- about you not going back to the dorms at night.” Her eyes narrowed slightly. “Why would-”

“Remington, I’m really not in the mood to listen to-” He started, grabbing the book, but she slapped her hand down on top of it.

“Draco. I’m serious.” She said, “Don’t you realize what you’re doing to yourself? A person can’t survive without food, or sleep-”

“I can sleep when I’m dead.” He stated, his eyes meeting hers sharply, his jaw set.

“That’s not even-”

“It’s not as if I’d be able to sleep if I went to the dorms, anyway, Remington.” He countered.

After scowling at him for a moment, the fight in her seemed to melt and she resigned to playing with the chain around her neck. It’d become a nasty habit of hers, ever since she’d started wearing it. The Malfoy ring dangled on the end. Stringing it on a necklace chain had been her solution for the fact it was too big for her to wear properly. He’d only noticed it when he met her at the Room of Requirement a couple days prior.

“Arguing isn’t going to change anything, besides possibly making it worse.” He said.

“Why can’t you just not be incessantly stubborn?” She mumbled.

“Why can’t you?”

“Because I was raised _constantly_ getting my way.” She replied honestly. She was an only child; it was only natural that she didn’t have much to discourage her from getting what she wanted.

“And so was I.” He remarked, “Now, what else did Blaise say to upset you?”

She fumbled the ring and just about dropped it, but managed to keep a grip on it as she went back to twirling it on its chain. “What?”

“You already suspected I wasn’t leaving here overnight, so that’s not the only thing that upset you.” He pressed, “What else did he say?”

“The usual _don’t tell me you’re not doing what I think you’re doing_.” She said quietly, using a patronizing voice.

“And now you couldn’t argue with him because you didn’t want to lie.” Draco mused. “How adorable.”

She turned to give him a look. “Excuse you?”

He smirked at her, “You’re never going to win when it comes to Blaise. You might as well let him believe whatever he wants. Your sudden lack of refutal isn’t going to change his mind any. As far as he’s concerned, he’s _always_ right.”

“Do you have _any_ idea how-”

“There honestly isn’t anything to be done. Don’t you think if there was, I would have fixed his attitude by now?”

“The people you spend your time with are infuriating.” She commented.

“You spend just as much time with them, love.”

“Only because you do.” She said, sing-song note in her voice. “And while we’re on the subject- you’re not old enough to take your Apparition test with me, are you?”

“How does that have anything to do with-” He started, giving her an odd look.

“You’ll see.” She interjected.

“No, I’m not.” He said, his eyes turning dubious.

“Because then I’m going to see if Blaise’ll meet up with me to go to Hogsmeade together.” She said, going back to swirling the ring around. “I don’t want to walk there alone.”

“That’s a good idea.” He told her, “You shouldn’t be alone.”

“It’s not like I’m incapable-” She started to protest.

“Rem.” At his words, she quieted herself, knowing full well that arguing with him would get her nowhere. It wasn’t as if she could claim that it was perfectly safe for her, for anyone, to be walking about alone in the wizarding world.

“You get along with Blaise fine, then?” He asked, “When I’m not around-”

“Blaise is alright,” She said, “A doubtless Slytherin, but he’s good company. I don’t exactly have many friends otherwise-”

“Still not getting along with Dunbar?”

She paused, turning to let her eyes focus on him. He had his elbow on the table, his head resting in his hand as he looked up at her. “You know-”

“I don’t have any knowledge of what you do when you’re not with me, Remington. I wouldn’t know if you’ve spoken to her.” He informed her. “As tempting as it may be sometimes to see what’s going on in your head, I haven’t.”

“I guess I’m used to you knowing everything.” She shrugged.

“It only causes a lot of problems,” He remarked, reaching around her to pull the book back towards him again. She’d completely forgotten about it. “Knowing too much.”


	45. Nightmares And Nostalgia

She’d spent most of the day in a mildly irritable silence. It came and went of course, but generally, it followed her. Blaise not really being one to concern himself with other people’s problems, had done nothing to ask as to what was wrong. She was fairly certain he could’ve guessed anyway. Draco had missed every class of the day, not to mention every meal so far, and Remington would’ve been fully inclined to storm into the Room of Hidden Things and give him a large piece of her mind, had it not been June fifth.

Dropping her fork onto her plate with a quiet clank, she pushed away from the Gryffindor Table. Nobody really spared her a glance as she headed out of the Great Hall, rather sooner than anyone else.

She made her way to the seventh floor and weaved through the towering mounds of junk, her feet moving without thought – she knew the way only too well. Draco seemed to have heard her coming and stood with his arms crossed. She tossed something round and green his way before hopping up to sit on the table. He caught it flawlessly, then turned it up in his hand, though he already knew what it was.

She half-smiled, half-smirked as his eyes flicked up at her. “No need to thank me, Malfoy. It is your birthday, after all.”

“And so you got me an apple?” He inquired, holding it up, arching his eyebrows.

“That’s merely a treat.” She said.

“Oh, I see where you’re going with this.” He remarked, leaning against the side of the Cabinet.

“I wasn’t going anywhere.” She disagreed. “I was staying right here, actually.” Little did he know what she’d decided on earlier.

“And you’re trying to tell me,” He began, “You’re not alluding to something.”

“Did I ever say that?” She said, cocking an eyebrow and kicking her feet in a childish manner.

“I’m not playing games with you, Alvers.” He said, throwing the apple back her way. She went to try to catch it, fumbling it a few times before securing it with both hands. He rolled his eyes and turned back towards the Cabinet.

“Is that really what you want to do on your seventeenth birthday? Just-”

“Perhaps I’ll have a little extra luck today.” He commented.

“Draco-”

“I’m running out of time, Remington.” He said severely, his voice hardening suddenly.

She scowled, her legs stopped swinging and she looked down at the apple in her hands. Less than a month. Only twenty days before it was too late. Twenty days-

“Please-”

“There’s no more shoving it aside for tomorrow.” He interrupted her, “I need all the time I can get. There’s no sense in debating it any more-”

“I’m not  _debating_  anything.” She said, “I’m just-” She stopped abruptly in frustration, glowering past her dangling sneakers at the floor. “Well, I’m going to work on Transfiguration, then.” She said, setting the apple aside to pull her book from her bag and flip it open.

“Please tell me you’re not still ignoring Defence Against the Dark Arts.”

She shrugged at the comment, but that was about as good as confirming it.

“Rem-”

“Well, I’ve already got detention with Snape tomorrow-” She mumbled.

“You have  _got_  to be kidding me. I can’t understand why you think it’s necessary to-”

“Why should I do homework twice?” She prompted. “He  _knows_  that I’m doing all of your assignments, so why do I need to do my own, as well? Besides- he’s just being bitter because he’s disappointed in me.” She glanced up to see that he’d abandoned the Cabinet again and was leaning against it and watching her. “Because I don’t listen to him.”

He rolled his eyes. “You don’t listen to  _anyone_.” He remarked.

“And  _that_  fact would make him so much happier.” She said dryly, looking back at the Transfiguration book.

“That’ll be your first detention-” He began.

“Since Umbridge.” She finished for him, pursing her lips and inadvertently looking down at the back of her left hand. She had always scarred easily. For a while, the scratches had been red, raised lines of skin, but they’d soon faded to thin, silvery threads, and now only a couple spots still lingered. “That was  _so_  long ago.” She commented.

“A year and a half.” He offered. His voice almost surprised her, since it was so much closer, but she just flicked her eyes up at him, just reaching the table and leaning against it beside her.

She might have made a quip about not working on the Cabinet anyway, but she was afraid it might somehow prompt him into going back over to it. “Nostalgia’s a bitch.” She muttered.

He gave a light sound of amusement. “I’m sure.” His eyes trailed to the clock that Rem had fished out of some hiding place in the room, which had served well for the past few months. “You won’t be able to stay long-” He remarked.

“I…” She began slowly, “Think they’ll survive one night without me.”

**=+=+=+=**

“What if we went to the kitchens?” She asked, sitting up with her legs crossed Indian-style, huddled in a mass of heavy blankets. She  _really_  didn’t want to leave the bed and go down to the Great Hall, to face what she’d convinced herself for so long would be an onslaught of judging glances. But the fact of the matter was, she was starving.

“If you’re really that concerned, you could just bring something back for me.” He commented, sliding a book from one of the shelves that were placed up against the wall. She was caught somewhere between admiring the room, and admiring him, being that the pajama pants he was wearing rode low on his hips, and he wasn’t currently wearing a shirt.

Even after the toll the year had taken on him, he was still beautiful. Maybe not as intimidatingly so, as a sort of vulnerability had crept upon him. She had a feeling she was the only one who could see it.

She’d been in the room once before, and though the circumstances felt similar, they weren’t the same. She was sure that after she’d left, the last time, he’d stayed in this room a bit longer, possibly looking through the books, as he was now. But this time, she was there because she’d literally slept with him, not because she’d figuratively  _slept_  with him. If she were to be painfully honest, she was a little surprised that he hadn’t gone for anything more than just curling up under the sheets and falling asleep, but then, she supposed, there was a side of him that was a lot softer than he’d ever admit. After all the times he’d tried to convince her to stay with him, she’d finally agreed, and he’d been perfectly content to just  _sleep_.

For a while, she’d started to wonder if he had nightmares. If that was part of the reason he couldn’t sleep. And maybe, with her being there, it wasn’t so bad. She knew that would be how she would feel if the dreams of her father came back, she’d just want someone  _there_. It’d feel warmer. Safer.

“Don’t think I won’t.” She said, shrugging out of her cocoon and preparing herself to face breakfast.


	46. When The Smoke Clears

Rem let her eyes drift lazily around the great hall as she tore apart a pastry, her eyes inadvertently landing on Blaise, who caught her look and smirked at her from across the Hall. She shot him a sneer, but he just shook his head lightly and turned to Pansy, who was vying for his attention.

Someone took the seat beside her, but Remington didn’t glance to see who it was. Not as if they’d talk to her, anyway-

“Where were you last night?” The still-familiar alto of Fay’s voice met her ears. It wasn’t a question. It was a demand.

“What makes it your business?” Rem returned, still not looking up.

Fay looked quite taken aback for a second. “I’m _supposed_ to be your friend. You haven’t really been acting like it, though.”

“You haven’t exactly been doing a stellar job, either.” Remington countered, casting a mildly bitter look from the corner of her eye.

“Only because you haven’t!” Fay snapped, scowling.

Rem turned her eyes on her plate for a moment, taking a deep breath. The argument seemed so childish. So trivial. “I was with Draco.”

“You spent the _whole night_ with Draco?” Fay prompted with some incredulity and derision. “So you’ve been sleeping with him now, too?”

“You don’t know anything of that.” Rem hissed, knowing full well that she’d just made the situation much worse.

Fay stared, obviously having been merely trying to make a sharp comment rather than really meaning what she said. “You haven’t-” She began slowly, quietly.

Remington went to stand up, but Fay seized her sleeve and pulled her back onto the bench. “Fay, do we-” She began to complain.

“You’re going to answer me.” Fay told her decisively, “Because otherwise I’ll be forced to believe that last night-”

“Oh, not last night, Fay.” Rem muttered irritably, her tone harsh.

“So you admit it happened.”

“ _Drop it-_ ”

“No, I’ve got you talking.” Fay said, the corner of her mouth curling up slightly. “I might not like what I’m hearing, but I’m hearing something, for once.” Remington rolled her eyes. “When?”

“After a Quidditch match-” She began, “No- We’re not talking about this _now-_ ”

“What about last night, then?” Fay pressed, not listening completely.

 “Nothing-” She was about to say _incriminating_ , but it had been. Just in a different way. The next word that came to mind was _bad_ , but that wouldn’t be honest, either. Aiding a Death Eater was certainly both incriminating and bad. “Like that.” She finally finished.

“We need to discuss this.” Fay decided, standing up and grabbing Rem’s wrist, dragging her out of the Great Hall.

“Fay-” Remington groaned as she was tugged to her feet. “I hardly got anything to eat-”

“Don’t act like you can’t get food whenever you want.” Fay argued, pulling her through the doors to the Hall, when she finally let go.

Rem scowled and rubbed her wrist, shooting sidelong looks at Fay as they started down the corridor. They waited until they were sufficiently isolated before talking.

“I can’t believe you actually-” Fay started, her volume low to keep from echoing in the deserted hallway. She pressed a hand to her forehead.

“Fay, if you haven’t noticed- These sorts of things happen when you’re a teenager-” Fay made a contemptuous sound. “What about you and Seamus?”

This apparently surprised her. “What?” She finally choked out.

“Are you two together yet?” Rem asked. She suddenly felt a wave of guilt; she shouldn’t have had to ask that question. Fay had still referred to her as a friend, and if it were true, she should’ve known the answer already.

“We haven’t _slept_ together-” Fay said, still sounding a little put-off. There was a hint of an accusation in her words.

“Well-” Remington began uncomfortably. “It’s not- It only happened once.”

Fay was about to open her mouth to say something, but something stopped her. Rem came to stop and looked at her. “What is that?”

“What do you mean?”

“I think Moaning Myrtle’s having a fit.” Fay remarked, her brow creased.

Indeed, Remington could hear the sound of the ghost girl’s high-pitched voice, and a muted crashing sound drifting from the boy’s lavatory just down the hall. But it didn’t sound right. Rather than the wailing, self-pitying sounds of Myrtle’s usual type, her voice was squealing for someone to stop.

Remington jogged closer to the door, hoping to hear what was going on inside. Perhaps someone was just taunting her... though her tone was more pleading than hurt or indignant. And there were the sounds of other voices, too. Including a voice that, despite the door muffling it, sounded all too familiar.

“It’s a fight.” Fay said in realization and surprise. “We’d better go tell-”

The noise quieted for a slight moment, and she could see Fay relax slightly, standing a few feet off to the side. Then- “MURDER! MURDER IN THE BATHROOM! MURDER!” Myrtle’s scream filled the hallway and Remington shoved the door open, nearly slipping on the water that covered the floor.

She heard Fay shout from behind her, but was too busy trying to figure out where everyone was. Myrtle’s yells echoed all over the walls and floor, making it impossible to tell where they were coming from. She ran down the center of the room, her feet plashing in the thin covering of water. It was the same bathroom she’d found Draco in before.

She soon saw them, just around a corner at the end of the room, two figures on the floor. She recognized Harry immediately, kneeling on the ground, and beside him was a blonde figure, covered in blood, which made the water around them look like a thick, shiny pool of red.

She didn’t need to instruct her body to move, it did on its own, rushing over and falling onto her knees with a splash and a slight pain shooting up her legs, but she didn’t think about it. Her hands hovered over Draco’s chest, his white shirt stained scarlet. She wanted to touch him, but she couldn’t bear the thought of hurting him more.

Across from her, Harry was still in partial shock, though he wasn’t any worse than Remington, who was repeating Draco’s name, her blue eyes wide and her brow furrowed in concern and pain. Pain at seeing Draco in such a state.

But there was only a second or two between the time she’d found them, and the time Snape found them. He roughly pushed a frightened-looking Harry aside, knelt next to Draco, drew his wand, and muttered an incantation as he traced the deep wounds that Harry had inflicted on Draco. The blood flowing from the gashes seemed to ease, then they began to knit back together. After repeating the countercurse a third time, Snape hauled Draco to his feet. Harry stayed on the ground, but Remington scrambled to stand, the red-tinged water that had soaked her clothes weighing her down.

“You need the hospital wing. There may be a certain amount of scarring, but if you take the dittany immediately we might avoid even that...” Snape said, then his eyes landed on Remington. She knew he was about to tell her to leave. To go get cleaned up or something, but she quickly moved to Draco’s other side, pulling his arm around her shoulders. Knowing she wouldn’t give in to his arguments, he turned to Harry. “And you, Potter... You wait here for me.”

**=+=+=+=**

The walk to the hospital wing was only a few minutes, but it seemed so much longer. And Remington was infuriated when Madam Pomfrey refused to let her through the curtains. Not to mention that she couldn’t even plead with Snape, being that he’d come, told Pomfrey what had happened, and left as the nurse pulled the curtains shut around Draco’s bed.

Rem paced across the room, and back, and across the room and back, leaving a trail of bloody water behind her as she did.

It was quite some time before Madam Pomfrey finally slipped back through the curtains, and once she had, she nearly did a double-take at the sight of Rem. “He’s not in any condition for guests, Miss Alvers. I’m afraid you’ll have to leave.”

“I’m not leaving until I see Draco.” Remington insisted.

“Then you will be waiting a very long time. You may as well get yourself cleaned up-”

“I-” Rem began to argue.

“You’d best allow her to simply _look_.” Came a voice from near the door. Remington looked over her shoulder to see Snape, still wearing the same water-clogged attire he had before. “She’ll not hesitate to stay here all night if you deny her.” Rem felt a surge of fondness for Snape, that he’d argue in her defense.

“Severus, you can’t expect me to allow her past the curtains. You know how badly the boy-” Pomfrey began, sounding very much like a combined mother and doctor. Her voice was surprisingly commanding for such a small woman.

“I am very aware of the extent of Mister Malfoy’s wounds. But I am also aware of the extent of Miss Alvers’ bullheadedness.”

Rem turned her eyes hopefully on Pomfrey, who looked scandalized that her orders were being overridden in her own domain. “A single minute and that is _all_.” She finally said with a huff, heading away, carrying a small bottle of what Remington was sure was dittany.

“Thanks.” Rem said to Snape as they approached the curtains.

“You’d make yourself sick before you would listen to her, and I’m certain she would not be pleased to take on another patient.” He responded, pushing the cloth aside to allow her in first, his manners surprising her slightly.

The blankets were pulled up to Draco’s chest, but she could still see the bandages. His eyes landed on them somewhat lazily. She was sure that the sort of blood loss he experienced would leave him a bit off, not to mention that he would probably still be in pain if Pomfrey hadn’t given him anything for it yet.

“You’re all red.” He commented, his gaze drifting over her. Of course he’d notice more with her than Snape, who was wearing all black. Indeed, her jeans were badly bloodstained, and her shirt was spattered with it, as well as her hands.

“It’s _your_ blood.” She returned, afraid to step closer to the bed.

Snape had hunted down a chair and brought it up beside Draco’s bed, seating himself. She was sure he’d have plenty to talk to Draco about. Whenever the latter came back to his usual senses.

“Are you- feeling alright?” Rem asked.

“If you don’t count the pounding headache and the fact I can’t move, I’m peachy.” Draco replied, giving Snape an odd look, obviously not pleased that he was planning on staying.

“Your time is up, Miss Alvers.” Pomfrey said, peeking her head in.

“So _he_ gets to stay, but _she_ has to leave?” Draco demanded a bit drowsily.

“You’ll probably be asleep in a couple minutes anyway.” Remington said, “I’ll be back in a bit.” She added before stepping out and closing the curtains behind her.


	47. Unwarranted

It helped, to see him alive and functioning, if not a bit loopy. But in that bathroom- It’d almost been too much. The blood- it’d reminded her in a paralyzing, terrifying way of her father, but it had been Draco. She’d started to think, ever since she’d locked eyes with him in Potions on her second day at Hogwarts, it’d _always_ been Draco.

He’d always been prone to annoy the daylights out of her, and she’d always been prone to be drawn towards it. Someone who could both infuriate her, and leave her no option but to fall in love with them.

And she’d felt for a moment, when she’d been in the water beside him, that he might have been slipping. She had not been able to do anything to help her father, he’d already been dead by the time she caught sight of the bloodied mass of the man who had meant the most to her. But Draco... Draco had still been alive. Though, she hadn’t an idea of how to help him. She watched the bloodstains in the water bloom and grow, unable to do anything.

And Harry, Harry didn’t do anything but stare. He didn’t make an effort to help, he didn’t even call for anyone. He’d sat in the pool of blood and water and _watched_.

But she knew he wasn’t the only one to blame. She knew Harry well enough to be certain he wouldn’t have attacked unless he was provoked. He wouldn’t have cast the first blow. Draco attacked first. She knew it. And she knew she’d have to reign in her leniency so that he knew it was his own fault. He was getting so careless...

She peered into the steamed mirror, combing her hair. She’d taken a long, hot shower, and dressed in a fresh pair of jeans and a sweatshirt. Her hair was still damp, and fought against her as she smoothed out the tangles. Her eyes were red from crying. She’d managed to hold herself together until she’d gotten back to the common room, but that was all. And now she needed to pull herself back together. She slipped her feet into a pair of tennis shoes, and without further ado, she made her way to the hospital wing.

Pomfrey wasn’t out in the infirmary by the time she got there, so she simply moved to the back of the room, where Draco’s bed rested. It was a couple hours after she’d left before, and she had a feeling he’d be asleep. She slipped through the curtain and ground to a stop.

Sitting in the chair Snape had claimed earlier was the bane of her existence.

Pansy gave a half-hearted sneer, but nudged a second chair with her foot, as if in invitation.

Remington cautiously took the seat, eyeing Pansy. “How long have you been here?” She asked, trying to keep the dislike out of her tone.

“A half hour.” Pansy replied, looking at Draco. “Maybe less.” She turned her eyes on the arm of the chair she was sitting in, picking at the frayed material that covered it. “I’m second-guessing whether I want to be here while he’s awake, though.”

Rem took the hint that he hadn’t woken yet. Deciding to play nice and humor Pansy, she inquired, “Why?”

The Slytherin girl’s eyes flicked up at her, “Awkward enough while he’s still sleeping, isn’t it?”

“A bit.” Rem admitted, sinking lower in her chair. She wanted to ask Pansy why she came up to see Draco, but she didn’t want to sound like a bitch and ruin the somewhat tolerant moment.

“I know what you’re wondering.” Pansy remarked after a short pause. “And it’s not really your business why I’m here.”

“Well, you’re right.” Remington said reluctantly.

After a stretch of silence, Pansy spoke up again. Her tone wasn’t harsh, though it wasn’t soft, either. It had a conversational and thoughtful note to it. “You know, Alvers,” She began. “We’ve got a lot more in common than either of us would ever care to admit.”

Rem’s eyes snapped to land on the girl. “Oh?”

Pansy nodded knowingly, “We’re both stubborn. We’re both determined. And we’re both in love with something beautiful and cold.” Somehow, the pair of them found their eyes on Draco. “But the big difference is that one of us was fortunate enough to have their regards returned.” She gave a sniff of distaste, turning her eyes back on Remington, who met her gaze a bit anxiously. “You may have won this battle, Alvers, but I’ve won many before it. We’ll just both have to wait and see where the war ends.” However, the look on Pansy’s face told Remington more than her words did. The war she spoke of had already come to a close, and Pansy knew it just as well as anyone else, but she was far too proud to ever admit defeat. “Just don’t loosen your hold on him. He’ll be gone before you even have a chance to wonder who took him away.” Her dark eyes glinting slightly.

“I’ll be sure to keep that in mind.”

“All the better.” Pansy said, standing up and casting a quick look in Draco’s direction. “So long as you stay where you belong, Alvers, I think we could get along fine.”

Rem resisted the urge to snap back something sharp and rude, instead narrowed her eyes slightly, “Where might that be?”

 “Out of my hair.” Pansy said, arching her eyebrows and peering at her with a sort of lenity.

Remington rolled her eyes. “You won’t have to worry.” She assured her.

“Didn’t think so.” Pansy said, standing up and giving Remington a final look before heading towards the part in the curtains.

“Do you want me to mention you were here?” Rem asked, not looking back at the girl.

“Oh,” Pansy said airily, but with a sure dose of arrogance. “I know you will anyway.”


	48. Price To Be Paid

After an hour of sitting at Draco’s bedside, she caught herself yawning more than she liked, and within another hour, she’d fallen asleep as well, hugging her legs, and her head resting on her knees. Though, she was woken when Madam Pomfrey came in to check on Draco.

“Oh, not you again.” She said when she saw Rem. She made a clicking sound and walked back out. She was only gone for a fraction of a second before she reappeared, this time with a pillow and thin blanket.

“Thanks.” Remington mumbled, taking them from Pomfrey, who just gave a fleeting smile.

“Still asleep, is he?” The woman asked, approaching Draco’s bed. “Good, good. He’ll certainly be feeling better by the time he wakes up. All the blood he lost, poor thing.” She murmured, mostly to herself as she held a hand to his forehead to make sure he wasn’t running a fever.

Rem had rearranged herself and curled up with the blanket and pillow by the time Pomfrey was about to leave. “He’ll- He’s going to be just fine, right?” She asked quietly, wanting a bit of reassurance. She’d made the assumption, but she hadn’t been expressly told.

Pomfrey gave that warm, motherly smile again. “Just fine.” She said, “And it won’t be long, either.”

“Thanks.” Remington said again, relaxing into the chair a bit.

“Lucky, he is,” Pomfrey remarked as she slipped through the curtain. Rem only just caught the last bit, “To have a girl like you around.”

**=+=+=+=**

It was nearing the next morning when she woke up the next time, though the sun hadn’t come up yet, she knew. She straightened a bit, inadvertently knocking the pillow onto the floor. She felt like a tree, having stayed in the same position for so long. She ran her hands over her face, rubbing the sleep from her eyes before she looked over at Draco, and nearly fell off the chair.

“You’re up.” She said, unable to hold back the smile that crossed her face.

“If you didn’t notice, I was awake before you were.” He remarked, though his voice seemed a little rough, either from sleep or disuse.

“But you’ve been asleep the whole time I’ve been here.” She countered.

“When did you get here?” He asked.

She rubbed her arm, in slight reluctance.

His eyes narrowed, “You never left, did you?”

“Well I went and cleaned up.” She said, “I’m not all red anymore, am I?”

“You can’t use that against me.” He shot at her. “At the time, I shouldn’t’ve even been talking.”

“You _were_ pretty dotty for a while there.” She commented, “But you’re peachy now, right?” He glared at her for a moment. “Fine, fine.” She said, still smiling. “I’m done.” His glare softened and he turned his eyes to the ceiling. “You _are_ feeling better, though?” She pressed.

“Now that I’m not housing a bunch of gaping wounds?” He prompted, “Loads better.”

“Good.” She said, playing with the hem of the blanket in her lap. “You know I would yell at you if I didn’t have moral issues with yelling at someone in a hospital bed.”

“I bet.” He said, knowing she was going to start in at any minute.

She looked at him for a moment, then shook her head slightly, “I don’t understand why you’d-”

“Why I’d what?” He remarked, despite the fact he knew she was trying to be soft, he could see her indignation surfacing, and the idea that she blamed him -- even when he was the one wrapped in bandages and laid up in the hospital wing -- only upset him.

She stood up from the chair, crossing her arms, more out of the need to do _something_ than wanting to seem any more substantial. “Don’t think I don’t know that you brought this on yourself-”

He tried to straighten into a sitting position, but the pain in his abdomen was too much, he settled for propping himself onto his elbows. “Yes.” He retorted bitterly, “I asked Potter to shred me to ribbons. Just what I always wanted.”

“Don’t be a smartass, Draco.” She told him sharply, “You know exactly what I’m talking about. This isn’t your place to argue-”

“I’m damn well going to argue if I don’t think I deserve this-”

“It was coming-” She started to say.

“I’m paying for it!” He interjected. That shut her up well enough.

Their argument had steadily risen in volume to a near-shout, though it was too early for Madam Pomfrey to be awake, but Remington knew she’d come running if they raised too much hell.

She took a deep breath, still a bit indignant, before she sat back in her chair, arms still crossed.

“You’ve been crying.” Draco commented, still resting on his elbows, his voice more matter-of-fact than anything.

“I haven’t.” She disagreed, shaking her head, not looking at him. She hadn’t, not since when she was in the shower. How he knew was beyond her.

“You can’t lie to me, Rem.”

He could see her breathing become more pronounced, a sliver more rapid, like it always did when she got worked up over something. Her eyes flicked to meet his, only convincing him that much more of what he knew was true.

Suddenly, she uncrossed her arms and stood up, pressing her hands down on the edge of the mattress, leaning forward. Her face was only a little over a foot from his. “You don’t know what it was like, seeing you like that.” She said quietly, darkly. “Lying on the ground, covered in blood. It was- too much like my father.”

“You shouldn’t’ve come in.” He said, his volume just as low.

“I _had_ to, there was so much noise, and you-” She shook her head, looking down at the sheets.

He pushed himself into a sitting position, grimacing at the pain in his torso. He scooted back to use the headboard as a backrest. “I’m going to be fine, though, Rem-”

“There was so much blood-” She said through her teeth, her eyes squeezed shut. “But I knew you couldn’t die. Snape- he wouldn’t let you die-”

“You _know_ about that?” He hissed, staring at her.

She opened her eyes and looked at him. She straightened slightly, “About what? About-”

“ _About the Unbreakable Vow_.” He snapped under his breath so that anyone passing too close wouldn’t hear.

“No, of course I don’t.” She whispered, narrowing her eyes on him and crawling onto the bed, sitting cross-legged facing him. And she wasn’t going to let him get away without explaining.

He shook his head. He didn’t want to tell her, but he knew that she’d never let him be until he did. “He promised my mother that he’d protect me and help me.” He muttered contemptuously.

She stopped herself from asking why that upset him so much. Of course, it was a Malfoy thing. Malfoys didn’t acknowledge weakness. Or a need for help.

She bit back her comments about how he could have accepted some help. He could still- But she knew they’d only end up arguing. Instead, she raised a hand to rub her temple and brush her hair from her face. “Are you hungry?” She asked.

“You’re clearly a master at evading topics.” He remarked dryly.

“You don’t want to talk about it any more than I do. Leave it.” She said, arching her brows, “Do I need to ask you again?”

“Madam Pomfrey will bring breakfast, whenever that is.” He informed her.

She looked at him for a moment, “Well, you’ve been here enough to know, haven’t you?” At his scowl, she added, “I’ve heard stories.”

“I’m sure you have.” He muttered, “Bloody Gryffindors-”

“You realize you’re dating one.” She said, smirking slightly at him.

“Alvers,” He said, “You _hardly_ count.”


	49. Heavy Hearts

It was still almost an hour to curfew when Rem walked into the sixth year girl’s dorm in Gryffindor Tower. It was probably the earliest she’d returned for the night, nearly all year. Fay was the only one in the room, flipping through her copy of _Confronting the Faceless_. She looked up when Rem stepped through the door, making her way to her bed.

“Is he alright?”

The voice frightened her. It’d been so long since anyone had spoken to her during her visits to Gryffindor Tower. She looked up to see that Fay had discarded her Defence Against the Dark Arts and was looking at her, a mild sort of genuine concern lacing her otherwise nonchalant expression.

Rem had frozen in the middle of yanking off her shoes. She nodded slowly, “He will be. They’re releasing him tomorrow, now that the wounds have closed up.”

“I thought he might be getting better, since you’re here.”

“He told me to stay up here.” She shrugged, “I guess he doesn’t think the visitors’ chairs are very comfortable.”

Fay was quiet for a moment, looking down at the end of her bed. “I’m sorry, you know.” She said finally. “For being such a brat.”

“It’s not like I was any better.” Rem returned. “Don’t worry about it, Fay. The last thing we need around here is more of that.”

“I know.” Fay murmured, pausing as she stared down at her covers. Rem climbed onto her own bed, pressing the heels of her hands against her closed eyes. She was so _tired_ \- “I don’t think I’ve given you two enough credit.” Fay said finally, her voice quiet. “You really do know what you’re doing, don’t you?”

Remington lowered her hands, pulling her knees up to her chest. “I’d hope so.” She replied, “Otherwise I’m as good as dead.”

**=+=+=+=**

“But our exam in Charms is in a week, Rem.” Fay complained.

“What? Did you want to _study_?” Remington demanded as they ascended the stairs to Defence Against the Dark Arts.

It was only the Monday after that previous Saturday’s incident that ended with Draco in the hospital wing the day after his birthday. Over the past couple weeks, Fay seemed to have gone on a worrying kick, fretting nearly nonstop about the upcoming end-of-year-exams.

“How much time have you been spending with Hermione?” Rem teased, flicking a look at her friend from the corner of her eye.

In some ways, it felt like nothing had happened between them, but in others… It seemed almost as if it were the beginning of fifth year all over again, just starting to get to know Fay.

“Well,” Fay began a little uncomfortably. Remington could hear the words Fay refused to say, not wanting to make things any more unpleasant. _You haven’t been around_. Hermione was something of a replacement. The knowledge stung, but the worst part was knowing that it was her own fault.

“Yeah.” Rem said. “She’s rubbing off on you.” As they got to the landing, she caught sight of someone walking just down the hall. Someone she’d been anxious to see, yet dreading actually seeing.

When her eyes found the dark hair, she felt the threads of anger seep into her skin.

“Oh, no, Rem-” Fay started to say under her breath.

She ignored the brunette’s warning and called out, “Potter!” Oh, _there_ was the Gryffindor in her.

Harry slowed down and looked back, obviously having been expecting to get confronted. Ron ground to a halt beside him. The few other students, underclassmen, that were walking to their respective classes as well, showed obvious interest, but tried to busily move on. Remington couldn’t really blame them, even she hardly wanted to stay in the tense air.

“I’ve got a bone to pick with you.” She remarked as she approached him. Ron merely glared at her and Fay stood close by, looking as though she’d drag her friend away without a second thought if she didn’t know it’d only delay the inevitable.

“Remington, you have to know-” He began, sounding not so much apologetic as matter-of-fact. Of course, she never expected him to say sorry in the first place.

“What I _have to know_ is why you used _that_ against him. You could’ve _killed_ him, Harry.” She snapped under her breath. “I know he’s a pain in the ass sometimes, and I _know_ he’s the one who attacked first, but- you were abhorrently-”

“I didn’t know what it did!” Harry argued, just as indignant as he was defensive.

“You didn’t-” She started to repeat, then stopped. “How could you be so _stupid_?” She demanded, “Need I repeat, _you could have killed him_!”

“Hermione’s already given me the speech, Alvers.” Harry told her harshly.

She hardly paused long enough to feel any sense of surprise from his comment. “ _Hermione_ is not Draco’s girlfriend.” She retorted.

“Is he finally calling you that, now?” Ron returned from Harry’s shoulder.

Her eyes flashed to land on the red-headed boy. “You don’t know _anything_.” She lashed, “I don’t have to explain anything to you.” She turned a look between both of the boys. “ _Either_ of you.”

She made a move as if to walk past them, but Ron’s voice kept her, even though it wasn’t directed at her. “Fay, I thought you’d joined the sensible side.”

Rem whipped around to see Fay giving Ron a slightly calculating look, though there was an edge to her demeanor. She didn’t like the spotlight being shifted to her, and she felt incredibly uncomfortable. “Rem _is_ sensible.” She replied tersely before averting her eyes and catching up with her friend.

Once they were sufficiently distanced from the two boys, Fay made a sound of exasperation. “God, Rem!” She hissed under her breath. “Is there no such thing as _normal_ for you? It’s either you’re trying to fade into the background, or you’re causing a scene.”

Remington looked a bit taken aback at being chastised. “ _Excuse_ me?” She said, “The only reason Draco’s even _alive_ is because of Snape! And _Harry’s_ the one who nearly _murdered_ him!” She objected, her voice low.

Fay tossed her hands in the air out of exasperation. “It’s not like Harry would _mean_ to hurt anyone-”

Rem was starting to notice how things had shifted while she’d been… in her own little worrisome world. Fay had grown steadily closer to her other housemates. The way she defended Harry only told her as much. Not to mention how much she’d been around Hermione. “Fay, whether you _mean_ to kill someone or not, you’re still going to be tried for murder. You still ended them.”

Looking increasingly flustered, Fay latched a hand onto the sleeve of Rem’s robes, dragging her to an alcove on a corner above their next flight of stairs. Rem scowled as Fay stopped and looked at her. “He obviously didn’t tell you _everything_.” Fay whispered a bit sourly.

“What do you mean?” Remington demanded indignantly.

“Hermione mentioned-” Fay began. “There was something she said, about Harry not knowing for sure that Draco was about to use an Unforgivable Curse. That he was about to cast the Cruciatus-”

Rem shook her head slightly, still glaring at the other girl. “He-” But she couldn’t seem to force the refute past her lips. Would Draco _really_ not cast that? She knew how irrational and insensible he could be if he was angry. And when it came to Harry…

Remington was acting like she was about to turn and walk out of the alcove without another word, so Fay quickly jumped back in. “Rem, you can’t keep defending him when you _know_ you shouldn’t. You’ll get yourself in trouble-”

“Fay, I’m already in trouble. I’m drowning in it.” Remington told her.

“Rem, don’t be ridiculous.” Fay said, “Honestly, all these dramatics flying around the place, I don’t need you getting all dark and brooding, too.”

The bell rang loudly, announcing that they were late to Defence Against the Dark Arts.

Remington ran a hand over her face, brushing her hair away from her eyes. “Alright. Dark and brooding. Bad. Got it.” She mumbled. It wasn’t as if she could explain to Fay how things really were. In fact, she couldn’t tell anyone. Not without putting Draco in a bad spot, and she certainly wasn’t about to do anything of that such.

Fay looked at her for a moment, sensing something was up. “Hey… we should really get to Snape’s class before we’re _too_ late. No need to give him even more of an excuse to deduct Gryffindor’s points.”


	50. The Windup

She started pulling her bag from her shoulder as she reached the clearing. Even if he’d only just been released from the hospital wing, she knew he wouldn’t waste any time before going to the Room of Hidden Things. She was nearly about to start reciting the confrontation she’d had earlier with Harry, but closed her mouth when she saw Draco sitting at the chaise, his head in his hands.

She let her bag slide to the floor. “You alright? Does-” She began, afraid she might inadvertently insult him by asking for him to admit whether he was in pain. “Does it hurt?”

“No.” Was his only response.

Knowing something wasn’t quite right, she crouched in front of him so that she was at his level. “Draco-” She began.

“I don’t know how I’m going to do it.” He said softly. “I don’t have much time-”

So that was it. Not the scars from a couple days ago, but something a bit deeper. She took a slow breath, then reached towards him, her hands curling around his wrists. “It’ll be okay-”

“No- It won’t be okay. If I can’t get that bloody Cabinet to work; I’ll be dead. Do you consider that okay?” He argued seriously, his volume still just as low.

She mouthed silently for a second, not immediately sure what to say to that. “Draco-” She started again, a little bit more solidly this time.

“If I haven’t succeeded by now, then I’m probably-”

“ _Don’t say that_.” She interrupted him severely, tightening her grip on his wrists. She wanted to give him space – of course she did – but she wouldn’t listen to this.

“It shouldn’t’ve taken me this long in the first place.” He continued, “For all I know, he could do me in just as soon as-”

“ _Draco_.” She insisted, “ _Stop_.”

“It’s all true!” He said, “You know it is.”

Fed up, she yanked his hands away, gripped his chin with her fingers and lifted his head so that she could see him in the dim, filtered light. Her stomach gave a twist when she saw the tracks down his face. He was crying. Draco Malfoy was _crying_.

Once she’d overcome her shock, rather than saying anything, she fell forward onto her knees and wrapped her arms around his neck, “Dammit, Draco.” She breathed, feeling his arms wind around her. Her own body sought out his warmth, wanting to give him her own. As if she could take away the bad and return what was left of her hope. _As if_.

Draco had always seemed a combination of weak and strong, nothing in between. He projected an image of strength, self-assurance, and confidence. But he’d never been brave or impervious. It wasn’t until she’d spent countless hours in his presence that she started to notice how things got to him. He couldn’t handle failure. Despite all his downfalls, he hated the idea of disappointing someone, particularly his father. Or even Snape. And all year, not only was he afraid for his life and the few things he deeply cared about, but he felt like he was – in essence – a disappointment.

She’d known this. But what she hadn’t known, was whether he took the facts with the strength he wanted everyone to see in him, or if it bypassed his walls. And now she did know. And it didn’t make her feel any better.

“I love you.” She murmured, not really sure what words qualified as _acceptable_ in this situation, if there was such a thing.

**=+=+=+=**

“And where do you think you’re going?” Fay’s voice called.

With a sound of minor frustration, Remington turned away from the door to the dormitory, shutting it behind her and looking imploringly at Fay. “Into the common room?” She offered.

“Yeah,” Fay remarked sarcastically. “And where are you going once you get through there?”

“Narnia.” Rem replied, sounding nothing but serious.

Fay gave her a look. “What’s that?”

She shook her head. She had to remind herself that Fay’s exposure to the Muggle world was undoubtedly less than even hers. “Nothing.”

“You were going to go see Draco.” Fay stated.

“Well…” Rem took a lazy step away from the door, “You’re not wrong.”

“Oh, come on, Rem.” Fay complained. “I only just pulled you out from under your rock, don’t crawl back there!”

Remington pursed her lips slightly and arched her eyebrows, “So you’re comparing me spending time with Draco… to being under a rock?” She asked.

Fay scowled, “ _Living_ under a rock, you know, disconnected from the world. Don’t start twisting my words into perverse suggestions.”

Rem just gave a slight laugh. So this was a lot like the situation with Natalie, now Fay felt like she was slipping away, too. It was nice knowing they cared enough for her for them to not want to lose her. “Well I’m not going to sit around and watch you study, Fay.” She commented with a smile.

Fay quickly closed the book in her lap and pushed it off the bed, where it landed on the floor with a thud. Well, it was a relief that Hermione hadn’t gotten under her friend’s skin too deep. The bushy-haired brunette would never have been so careless with a textbook. “I can study tomorrow.”

Remington rolled her eyes, “Alright.” She said reluctantly, trailing over to her own bunk. She could just leave when Fay fell asleep. It wasn’t as if Draco wouldn’t still be in the Room of Hidden Things.

Fay smiled to herself. Rem wasn’t sure if it was from getting her way, or for Rem herself agreeing.

After almost two hours of tossing Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans between their beds, betting on the flavors, trying to catch the beans in their mouths, and laughing at each other’s faces when they were subjected to one of the least appetizing ones, the other girls began to show up and prepare for bed. Within an hour, Remington assumed everyone in the room was either asleep, or incredibly close to it.

She slipped under the curtain of her bunk, keeping it shut so nobody would see that she was gone. In the dark, she stumbled into her sneakers and pulled a sweater out of her trunk before she left the dormitory.

Her feet could nearly take her to the seventh floor and weave through the Room of Hidden Things on their own, for how many times she’d walked those steps.

Once she reached the clearing, she took in Draco’s form, sitting on the floor, leaning back against the Cabinet. He looked up at her as she approached, sitting down next to him.

“How close is it?” She asked quietly, folding her legs.

“It’s just the return.” He replied. “Everything gets to Borgin’s just fine; it’s coming back that’s not working how it should.”

“I’d hate to say- you don’t think it’s the other Cabinet that’s not right, do you?” She inquired.

“Borgin told me he checked it.” He said, running a hand over his face. “Not that it’s much to go by.”

“So it’s just-”

“When living things are sent from Borgin’s to here,” Draco began, “They can no longer be described that way when they’ve arrived.” He exhaled heavily, tipping his head back against the cause of his current frustration. “That’s the only thing wrong with it, and it’s the most essential detail.”

She didn’t say anything, rubbing her nose and looking down at her lap. It wasn’t like she could offer him advice or condolences. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t tried them all before.

“You don’t usually come here so late.” He commented.

“Fay wanted me to stay, so I waited until she fell asleep.” Rem shrugged.

“What brought that on?” He asked, “You were nearly at each other’s throats a week ago.”

“A lot of little things.” She answered. “And I think she’s respects this- _us_ a bit more now. After what happened-”

“In short, she feels sorry for me.” He reiterated.

“No- I mean how we acted after that.” She said, “She still hates your guts-” He made a condescending sound. “But I think she realized that we aren’t just… joking around.”

“That’s good.” He remarked. “Not that I don’t like having you all to myself, but you need other people. Particularly with how things are.”


	51. Calling Bluffs, Making Plans

She ascended the stairs alone. She’d left dinner early, only having eaten a biscuit, and taken another with her as she left, though the second one wasn’t for her. Her determination to make Draco eat more was cutting back on her own food intake. Not that it bothered her any. She was at a healthier weight than Draco was, she was sure. For how little he’d eaten that year...

She tugged the door to the Room of Hidden Things open, surprised to find Draco on the other side, having been just about to grab the door handle. Before she even had a chance to speak, he was kissing her.

Immediately, she knew something was up, but it was impossible for her to deny him -- and _herself_ \-- the opportunity to kiss him. They broke apart only when it reached the point where they’d certainly earn more than a detention for how tightly they were pressed together, and for where his hands were going.

After a moment of near-silence as they caught their breath and let their minds clear slightly. “You fixed it, didn’t you?” She breathed, still a little jittery from the kiss.

“Yes.” He replied under his breath, still holding her around the waist.

“Now what?” She asked quietly.

“Now nothing.” He replied. “But you-” He said, “You should really get some sleep. You’re going to look as bad as me pretty soon.” He commented.

“Doubtful.” She responded. “You need sleep far worse than I do.”

“I will, alright?” He said, “But I’ll walk you to Gryffindor Tower first, if you like.”

Her eyes searched his. She felt a strange difference in his behavior, though she wasn’t sure if it might have just been because the weight that had been on his shoulders all year was finally gone. “I would.” She said, “If you promise you’ll go to your dorm and _sleep_.”

“I promise.” He assured her.

When they reached the portrait, however, she paused, “You’re sure that’s all for now?” She asked.

“Of course.” He said, pressing his lips to her forehead and lingering there for a moment before looking at her again, pointedly. “Goodnight.”

She eyed him, “You too.”

“Don’t worry, Rem. I’ll get some sleep.” He insisted. She looked at him for another moment, flashed a quick smile and entered the portrait.

She couldn’t get the question out of her head. _What now_? The Cabinet was fixed, a death still needed to occur, but whose? And what was it that the Cabinet was needed for? She had come to the conclusion that someone needed to be smuggled into the castle, likely the Dark Lord’s followers. They would be there, perhaps, for backup. Or a distraction.

But the really pressing detail, was now the _who_ rather than _how_. She couldn’t imagine that Draco would be ordered to kill Harry. She was sure that the Dark Lord -- him being the sort of controlling, maniacal, twisted sadist he was -- would not allow someone else to end Harry’s life. But who else could be a target? She didn’t think that any of the students could be considered a threat to Voldemort. And how could he possibly place Draco in charge of killing an adult, when he’d only come of age earlier that month?

Not to mention, there was hardly any time left. Only a couple days.

Only a couple days left before she knew she probably wouldn’t see Draco for a couple months. And for that fact, he’d been a bit quick to rid of her, suggesting that she go to her dormitory.

When she walked into the common room, she found that it was fairly empty, everyone else seemed to have moved on to their dorms already. She saw Hermione and Ron sitting near the fire, talking.

Recently, she hadn’t been one to search out her Housemates to speak with them, but the fact that Harry wasn’t with Ron and Hermione surprised her a bit, and with a bad feeling already seeded in her gut, she brought herself to walk over by them.

“Where’s Harry?” She asked conversationally, leaning against the back of a couch near them.

Both of them turned to look at her. Ron’s eyes were fixated in something awfully close to a glare, obviously still begrudging over her attachment to Draco.

“He went to go see Dumbledore, why?” Hermione responded, her voice at least reaching amiable notes.

“I was just wondering.” Rem replied. “It’s getting kind of late, is all.... Fay already go to bed?”

Hermione nodded, “Something about a headache and exams tomorrow.”

“Right.” Remington remarked, maneuvering around the couch to sit. “Exams. Gross.”

“I know.” Hermione agreed. “I should be studying.” She said, looking a bit worried.

“You’ll be fine, Hermione.” Ron said, sounding a touch exasperated.

Just then, Harry burst back into the common room through the portrait hole. Hermione and Ron nearly jumped out of their seats. “What does he want? Harry, are you okay?” Hermione quickly asked, but Harry sped right past them, answering that he was fine.

“I’ve got a really bad feeling.” Ron commented. Remington looked at him for a moment. He hadn’t any idea how bad it could be.

When Harry reappeared, he went straight to Hermione and Ron, explaining that he and Dumbledore were going on some sort of mission. Remington had turned her eyes on the fire, half-listening in. “... So you see what this means?” Harry said when he finished, “Dumbledore won’t be here tonight, so Malfoy’s going to have a clear shot at whatever he’s up to-” Both Ron and Hermione looked ready to object, but Remington beat them to it.

“Will you stop targeting Draco?” She snapped, glaring at Harry, though she’d paled slightly.

“Don’t even try to deny it, Remington.” Harry rounded on her. “We’re both aware he’s up to no good. Whatever he’s doing...” Rem stared daggers at him, but said nothing. He returned the look with a similar amount of venom. “So... you’ve got to watch him, and you’ve got to watch Snape too.” He continued, turning back to Ron and Hermione. “Use anyone else who you can rustle up from the D.A.”

“Harry-” Hermione began to say.

“I haven’t got any more time to argue.” He said, shooting a sour look at Rem. He shoved a sheet of parchment and a bottle of something into their hands, instructing them to split the Felix Felicis between themselves and Ginny before he left the room.

Remington had remained seated throughout the ordeal.

“I’ll try the D.A. right away-” Hermione said, pulling a Galleon from her pocket, the same as what all of Dumbledore’s Army had the year before to tell them when the next meeting was.

“So whose side are you on?” Ron asked Remington, giving her a look.

“I want to be on yours.” She said honestly. But it wasn’t exactly that easy.

“Thing is, we can’t trust you.” He said.

“I know you can’t.” She replied, standing up. “But I’m not going to fight against you guys. I hope you know that.”

“Doesn’t mean you won’t fight for them.” Ron muttered.

“I sure as hell won’t fight for them.” She snapped. “I’ll fight for Draco.”

“I still don’t understand what-” He began to argue sharply before Hermione interrupted their confrontation.

“Hey!” She said, “We don’t have time for this!” She thrust the map at Ron, “You go get Neville, I’ll get Ginny. Some others might show up- We’ll go to the Room of Requirement first and then I’ll take a couple people to Snape’s...”

Remington had started heading to the portrait, which caught Ron’s attention, though he listened to what Hermione was saying.


	52. This Crusade's A Charade

Rem ran down the stairs to the dungeon at a full-tilt, not pausing for staircases to swing for her, but simply finding a way to the bottom. She unhesitatingly pounded on the door to Snape’s office when she reached it, her chest rising and falling heavily, trying to catch her breath.

After a couple moments, the door wrenched open, revealing a very annoyed-looking Professor. “ _Remington-_ ” He began to say, a thorough ass-chewing about to cross his lips, Rem was sure.

“Don’t yell at me. Not this time.” She interrupted him, the last traces of breathlessness beginning to fade from her voice. “I think something’s happening.” His eyes narrowed slowly. “You  _know_  what I’m talking about.” She insisted.

He turned back, heading back into the room and going to the desk, yanking a drawer open and shuffling through it for a moment. Rem stepped inside and swung the door shut.

“The D.A. are watching the Room of Requirement, and some are going to be coming down to watch your room, as well. Draco’s mended the Vanishing Cabinet in the Room of Requirement- I don't really know-” She broke off, not really sure if she should be saying as much as she was. “Dumbledore and Harry have gone somewhere.”

“Go back to Gryffindor Tower, Remington.” Snape ordered, not looking up at her as he pulled another drawer open.

“No!” Rem exclaimed indignantly, “I’m not going to sit back and do  _nothing_.”

“For the sake of your mother’s sanity, Remington,” He said venomously, “Go back to the tower and  _stay there_.”

“I refuse.” Rem snapped decisively. “Not when  _this_  is going down-” He started to interrupt her, but she raised her voice. “Stop telling me what to do!” He seemed mildly surprised by the outburst. He didn’t expect her to argue at a time like this, no matter how she acted usually. “I’m making my own decisions.”

“You think that wise?” Snape shot at her, ceasing rifling through his desk. “Helping Draco all year? Getting yourself mixed up in something you knew very well you should keep your obstinate little hands out of?”

“I knew what I was risking.” She retorted. “If it helped keep him alive, it was worth it.”

“Getting yourself killed will not help anything, Remington.” He told her, about to continue.

“I  _know_  that.” She flashed, watching him slam the drawers shut on his desk. As he was about to walk around the desk, she decided she’d better ask him then. “You need to promise me something.”

He turned his eyes on her, the expression on his face showing that he was clearly not at  _all_ happy with either her, or the situation, or both.

“Promise me you won’t let him die.” She said, determined, but slightly pleading. “I  _can’t_  lose him.”

“Taking into account the fact I will die if he does-” Snape said, giving her a look.

“Just  _promise_.” She insisted impatiently. He returned a pointed look for a moment, before the door flew open.

Remington spun around to see Flitwick in the doorway. The Charms Professor hardly spared her a second look.

“Severus! You must come with me  _immediately_!” The small wizard demanded feverishly in his squeak-like voice, “Death Eaters! In Hogwarts!”

The last thing he was expecting was for Snape’s wand to shoot out, and Flitwick immediately toppled over.

Rem’s eyes grew big and she opened her mouth to say something, but Snape gave a shushing hiss and she quickly quieted herself, slipping out of the office just behind Snape. In the hallway, Hermione and Luna were waiting, looking surprised to see Remington leaving the Slytherin Head of House’s office.

“Professor Flitwick seems to have collapsed in shock, you three should take care of them while I go to help the other teachers.” Snape said to the two girls, who hastily did as he said, though Remington just looked at him with a narrow gaze. He met her eyes for a moment, as if to silently argue that she’d better do as told, but eventually decided it was best to get going rather than sit and mentally yell at Remington.

They were just nearing the hallway that housed the stairwell to the Astronomy Tower, but before they rounded the last safe corner, the sounds of a battle raging just around the bend, Snape stopped and turned to her, about to try for a final time to get her to stay in safety.

“ _Do not_  follow me.” He instructed sharply.

“I can handle myself-” She began to object.

“These are murderers you are talking about, Remington,” He snapped. “You have  _no idea_ what they are capable of-”

“I fought them once, and I damn well can do it again.” She flashed.

Beyond vexed, beyond arguing with her, Snape whipped around and strode into the thick of the fray.

She chased after him, ducking around a mousy-haired woman- Tonks, who was fighting a hooded figure, and evading a couple stray curses. She saw Snape up ahead, moving up the stairs to the Tower. She slipped through the crowd of Death Eaters, Order members, and D.A. Though, when she was about to head up the stairs, she was flung back by some sort of shield. She scrambled off the ground, her back throbbing from where she’d hit the stone floor. But if she didn’t get to her feet as soon as possible, she’d certainly be stepped on.

She cast a quick glance about the packed corridor. She didn’t know who she was supposed to be hexing. She couldn’t very well hex her fellow students, but then again, could she really hex the Death Eaters, if it could possibly compromise Draco’s safety?

So instead, she slipped through the crowd to avoid getting hit by any spells, watching her back closely and protecting herself rather than attacking anyone else. She needed to find him-

“Rem!” Someone yelled from behind her, a girl, Ginny, perhaps. She whipped towards the voice, coming face-to-face with a figure of, she supposed, a man, though he was on the extreme end of rugged. He was not armed, but she could see that his nails were dripping a dark, shiny liquid. The same stuff dribbled down his chin, from his savage grin.  _Blood_ , she realized, somehow managing not to throw up. The animalistic features of his face told her what she could have already guessed.

She jumped out of the way just as he lunged at her, aiming her wand at him with both hands, trembling. She could feel the fear-induced adrenaline racing through her veins. She’d gone from on edge to complete and total disquiet in fractions of a second.

She knew plenty of useful spells, but only a single one seemed to come to mind. One she’d been able to fend off werewolves with before, though they hadn’t looked so human, or acted so far from it.

Flames shot from her wand at the man, and he leapt out of the way.

“Stay away from me!” She shouted at him, backing away.

Someone came from behind her, pushing her back slightly and blocking the werewolf from her view. “We’re leaving.” The person said to the werewolf, with a voice she knew immediately.

“I almost had that little-” The man began, looking intently over Draco’s shoulder at Remington, licking his lips slightly.

“ _Don’t touch her_!” Draco snapped.

“So now you grow a backbone, kiddie?” The man jeered, “You don’t give me orders.” He snarled.

“You wouldn’t be here without me.” Draco reminded him sharply, earning another sneer before the man turned. To stalk someone else, she thought with a sickening feeling.

She grabbed Draco’s arm, “You brought a  _werewo-_ ” She began to demand, still shaking slightly.

“I didn’t have a choice, Rem.” Draco yanked out of her grip, looking down at her coldly. “And you shouldn’t be here.”

“Don’t even-” She started.

“Get  _out_  of here, Remington.” He flashed.

She probably would have protested, but Snape seized Draco’s shoulder and steered him on. Rem attempted to follow, but was cut off as the Order began to attack the Death Eaters that descended from the Astronomy Tower. Through the crowd, she could see someone else moving, going after Snape and Draco as well, someone with dark hair.

Remington forced her way through the battling witches and wizards, heading after Harry, who she could just see turning the corner at the end of the corridor. She chased after him, ducking stray hexes and avoiding puddles of blood, not about to let him out of her sight. If she followed him, she’d find Draco.

She saw him shove aside a tapestry up ahead and take a hidden shortcut, and didn’t think twice before doing the same. He hadn’t noticed her following him, being that she was several yards behind. Behind the tapestry were a set of stairs that she didn’t bother to take one at a time, and when she left the hidden stairwell, there was a small cluster of Hufflepuffs standing in the corridor she arrived at. They were staring off at where Harry must have run to, out the front doors of the castle. In a couple short moments, she found herself looking out over the grounds.

A few Death Eaters were heading down the hill, trying to get past the gates and off the school property to Disapparate. Hagrid was locked in a duel with a rather large Death Eater halfway down the slope. Harry was a little ways down the hill already, and Snape and Draco were just a bit below him.

Harry shot a curse at Snape’s back, though it missed. Snape shouted at Draco before he turned to face Harry.

But as Snape hissed at Draco to run, the boy looked back over his shoulder, seeing Harry charging after them, and Remington not far behind. Draco swore under his breath, heading back up the hill.

She was caught somewhere between shifting her attention to Draco, and attacking Harry. Harry was attempting Unforgivable Curses on Snape, and though she knew the man was very capable of protecting himself, she still felt a twist of anger. First Harry landed Draco in the hospital wing, and now he goes after Snape?

She slipped once on her way down the hill, and by the time she got back to her feet, Draco had grabbed her and held her around the waist, with her arms pinned to her sides to keep her from charging after Harry. “Snape can handle this himself.” He said in her ear, but her struggles hardly lessened.

“ _Go, Draco_!” Snape ordered for a second time.

“ _Professor_.” Draco said, nearly losing his hold on Remington, though she no longer seemed quite as determined to attack Harry.

She was breathing hard from sprinting through the whole damn castle and from fighting Draco’s grip. He may have been skinnier than earlier in the year, but he was still plenty stronger than she was. She wasn’t going to get away from him. That was getting clearer.

Snape glanced up at them for a fraction of a second, then his wand flicked in their direction, and it all went black.

When Remington came back to her senses, she could see Harry and Hagrid heading up the hill towards her. She pulled herself to her feet, stumbling slightly, though she managed to find her balance.

“Alright?” Harry asked softly, obviously a bit off. The fact that he was, and the fact he wasn’t showing any animosity for her made her previous anger towards him abate. Not to mention that she felt a little light-headed.

“Fine,” She replied. “You?”

“Yeah.” Harry said off-handedly, still heading up towards the castle. She followed, melting in with the other students who were filtering out of the oak front doors and to the foot of the tallest tower.

Harry moved forward through the crowd, past those at the front. She could only barely see around the many other students what everyone was looking at. Up ahead, Harry crouched down beside the body of Albus Dumbledore.

Several things crossed her mind then. The first was that it explained Harry’s behavior. He knew Dumbledore was dead, and was shaken from it. The second was that Draco’s task was finally clear. He was told to murder one of the greatest wizards of all time. A feat she couldn’t believe he’d actually been entrusted with. Just a boy-

Then came the realization that Harry would’ve been after Draco rather than Snape, had he really killed Dumbledore. So it must have been Snape. And that must have been why Harry was so keen to curse him.

And finally, Dumbledore was dead. Hogwarts was no longer a safe haven. The most powerful wizard fighting on the side of good... was gone.


	53. Unanswered

“You’d better come too.” Ginny had said when she passed her, leading Harry through the crowd and away from the broken body of their Headmaster.

So Remington had followed the two up to the hospital wing, where it seemed everyone who’d fought the Death Eaters had gathered around one of the beds. She assumed that was where Bill was lying, whom Ginny had said on their way to the ward had been attacked by Greyback, the werewolf that had almost gotten her, as well.

Being that Remington did not know him, she hung back, sitting in a chair behind the cluster of people surrounding the bed. She listened to Harry confirm her fears twice that it had been Snape who killed Dumbledore, once for those in the room, and once when McGonagall came through the door.

There was the relief that Draco did not, in the end, have to kill anyone, though it also sparked the fear that he hadn’t _really_ gone through with the mission he was handed. Could that be the Dark Lord’s excuse for killing him? Could Draco still be in danger? Or could he, possibly, already be done in? She couldn’t bring herself to consider it. Snape was with him. Surely, he knew by now what Draco meant to her. Surely, he would argue in Draco’s favor.

But then, _Snape_ had killed Dumbledore. It was a give and take situation. Now Snape would be generally a hated, condemned man by anyone not under the Dark Lord’s reign. He wasn’t in danger of being killed, though. Not unless Harry caught him unawares sometime, which she had doubts as to how probable that was.

She felt distinctly isolated from the people she was in the room with. Many of them, she didn’t know. Others, she knew, were angry with her. And their heartache was very separate from her own.

“This is all my fault,” Professor McGonagall said suddenly. She looked disoriented, twisting her wet handkerchief in her hands. “My fault. I sent Filius to fetch Snape tonight, I actually sent for him to come and help us! If I hadn’t alerted Snape to what was going on, he might never have joined forces with the Death Eaters. I don’t think he knew they were coming.”

Lupin began to try to console her, saying it wasn’t her fault, but Remington spoke up. “He didn’t know they were coming.” She said, “Not until I told him. Professor Flitwick showed up a few minutes after me.”

“We heard you arguing with him. Snape.” Hermione commented.

“You made him promise something.” Luna added.

Remington was aware of most of the eyes in the room resting on her, though her own gaze was lowered to the floor. “Draco... To keep Draco alive.” She said after a short pause.

For once, she didn’t hear anyone say something against her for trying to protect Draco. She looked up to find Ron casting her a furtive look, and Harry giving her a more dubious one. Nobody could really argue, though. Despite how much they may not have liked Draco, they still didn’t want to see a teenager dead.

“You knew Snape was on their side?” Harry asked. The revulsion and hatred for Snape obvious in his voice.

“I knew he was on both sides.” She disagreed. “I didn’t know which one he was _truly_ on.” She was convinced he was on the Order’s side. It was hard for her to believe she might have been wrong. She knew, though, that his concern for her safety had been genuine. Though... he’d fooled many greater witches and wizards than her, so who was to say she was wrong about that, also? No; he was family. He couldn’t possibly...

Harry shook his head, looking back at McGonagall, “So when Snape arrived at the fight, he joined the Death Eaters’ side?”

“I don’t know how exactly it happened,” Professor McGonagall said, explaining that patrols had been set up; Order members were stationed in the school. She hadn’t any idea how the Death Eaters could have breached their security.

Harry interrupted to tell about the twin Vanishing Cabinets. At the mention, Remington felt a weak stab of guilt, but knew that if she hadn’t helped Draco, and he’d failed, she would have felt far worse. She didn’t regret helping him, she realized, no matter what the outcome was.

Ron proceeded to relay his part of the story, how he, Neville, and Ginny kept watch outside the Room of Requirement, but were thwarted because Draco had apparently been expecting someone to be waiting in the corridor, and used Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder to render the three rather helpless as the Death Eaters escaped. However, they hadn’t been expecting to encounter the Order of the Phoenix, and that’s when the fight broke out.

“So if Ron was watching the Room of Requirement with Neville and Ginny,” Harry began, looking to Hermione, “Then you were-”

“Outside Snape’s office, yes.” Hermione said, her eyes looking a bit moist. “With Luna. When we got there, we could hear voices inside- we didn’t know who else was in the room. Then Flitwick came sprinting into the dungeons. He was shouting about Death Eaters in the castle, I don’t think he really registered that Luna and I were there at all, he just burst his way into Snape’s office and we heard him saying that Snape had to go back with him and help and then we heard a loud thump and-”

“He Stupefied Flitwick.” Remington commented. “At that point I probably should have known, but I- I couldn’t doubt him. I thought he knew what he was doing-” Rem looked up at the people looking at her, her brow slightly creased with remorse. Remorse for the pain they were feeling. Remorse to convince them she wished things had ended differently.

After a short moment, Hermione continued, “He said Professor Flitwick had collapsed and that we should go and take care of him while he- while he went to help fight the Death Eaters-” She looked more ashamed than ever. “We didn’t even realize, we just let Snape go!”

“It’s not your fault,” Lupin said firmly, “Hermione, had you not obeyed Snape and got out of the way, he probably would have killed you and Luna.”

“No he wouldn’t’ve.” Rem interjected darkly, “Perhaps he’s a murderer, but wouldn’t kill _children_.”

“You don’t know that, Remington.” Lupin told her.

“I do. He’s been trying to keep me from getting myself killed all year.” She said, then added, “He hasn’t killed Harry, and he’s had every opportunity, even earlier tonight-”

“He Stunned you, too!” Harry objected.

“For my own good, and Draco’s.” She argued, “If Draco hadn’t stopped me, I probably would’ve tried to go after you. If Snape _hadn’t_ Stunned me, then Draco wouldn’t’ve been able to get away. And I’m fine now, aren’t I?” She knew she sounded like the enemy, but she didn’t have the patience to think up anything less incriminating.

“Why would you attack _me_?” Harry demanded.

“Because you were trying to curse Snape! He’s been the closest thing I’ve had to a father figure for the past two years! And you’d’ve been happy to kill him.” She snapped.

“I’d still be happy to kill him! He’s a traitor; he killed Dumbledore!” Harry protested.

“I didn’t know that at the time.” She shot at him, scowling.

Harry’s glare turned annoyed and he looked back at the Order members, “So after Flitwick went to warn him, he came up the stairs and found the place where you were all fighting... ?”

“We were in trouble, we were losing,” Tonks said in a low voice. “Gibbon was down, but the rest of the Death Eaters seemed ready to fight to the death. Neville had been hurt, Bill had been savaged by Greyback... It was all dark... Curses flying everywhere... The Malfoy boy had vanished, he must have slipped past, up the stairs... Then more of them ran after him, but one of them blocked the stair behind them with some kind of curse... Neville ran at it and got thrown up into the air-”

“I tried it too.” Rem mumbled.

“None of us could break through,” Ron said, pausing. The rest of the story she already knew.

When everyone had dispersed and she walked to the tower, most of Gryffindor was in the common room, dressed for bed. For the first time, she was made aware of the fact she looked slightly ragged. She’d ripped one of the knees on her jeans, and had a few grass stains. The white soles and sidewalls of her maroon sneakers were streaked with blood. She still had her wand in her hand, not yet feeling entirely safe yet.

She’d blended in when she’d been in the hospital wing, everyone else having been just as bedraggled. They’d had ripped robes, bloodstains, and grazes on their arms and faces from hexes that only barely missed them. But the students in Gryffindor Tower were completely unscathed, not having been in the fray.

Most of the eyes in the room turned on her when she walked in, and Fay launched herself out of a chair when she caught sight of Rem, “It’s true, then?” She said quietly, “Dumbledore-” But she didn’t finish, because Remington was nodding. “Who-” Fay began to ask.

“I don’t want to talk about it, Fay.” She said, heading towards the girls’ dormitories. Fay made no move to follow her, staring after her in mild surprise and offence.

When Remington got to her own bed, she pulled a sheet of parchment out of her Defence Against the Dark Arts textbook that had been the start of an essay Snape had assigned, due the next day. She ripped a piece from it that hadn’t been written on and found a quill and ink.

_Send something back so I know you’re alive.  
Rem_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Continue Rem's story with the final installment, "Swan Song"!


End file.
